


Ivy

by sirachamuchacha



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Also they're both 18, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - No Zombies, Angst, Bullying, Childhood Friends, Fluff, Heavy Angst, M/M, Smut, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-29
Updated: 2018-04-29
Packaged: 2019-01-16 17:11:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 23
Words: 137,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12347034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sirachamuchacha/pseuds/sirachamuchacha
Summary: Growing up is hard, and sometimes it seems like a luxury. Negan seems to be straying further from that path every time he looks into Rick's eyes.orNegan breaks his leg during the first basketball game of the season. Rick is the team's sports trainer and Negan's long lost friend.





	1. Blue

**Author's Note:**

> Here's that high school AU I promised y'all since May.  
> I've been wracking my brain for inspiration for this fic since then and I finally found it after listening to some new music. However, I'm still very weary about this so tags could possibly change.  
> Anyways, happy reading!! <3

It’s the night of Negan’s first basketball game of the season; a chilly November evening, with the scene of the sunset matching the crumpled leaves on the ground and the terracotta rust on the edges of the all metal body of Negan’s old Dodge truck.

He’s driving down the backroads to get back to campus, in the presence of the sweet sounds of cars gently hissing past his window and the routine click and clack of Lucile clamping or twisting her beauty products shut while she sings along quietly to the song on the radio, hum speaking, talk singing, _“Sorry boy, but I’ve been struck by purrrrple rain.”_

Ventura Highway by America: a classic- simple as that. It’s a song that makes Negan feel sad but happy at the same time. Especially now, in his last year of high school, otherwise known as his last year of being able to avoid all responsibility, his last year of carrying one load of shit just to put on another right when his graduation cap hits the air.

He tries not to think about it too much because that'll just ruin his final year of high school, and really, who’s he kidding? He’ll probably spend the rest of his life dodging responsibility anyways, lets be honest here.

But who’s to worry about that now when its time has not come?

Right now, in the present day that continues to go by so fast, Lucille’s got the visor down, applying mascara or eyeliner or whatever it is onto her eyes as she bores into the mirror. Her eyelids are made up a rich eggplant purple, fading into a cranberry color as it comes closer to the bone of her eyebrow. It’s her own take on the standardized spirit makeup required for the cheerleaders to wear, matching the school colors on her cheer uniform. she figures since she’s co-captain this year she can get away with a lot more.

And Negan figures since he’s captain of the Varsity basketball team, he can get away with a lot more, too.

In fact, the two of them are not even supposed to be out and about; he’s supposed to be in the locker room right now, getting a shitty inspirational, but also kind of pretentious, pre-game speech from his basketball coach, and Lucille’s supposed to be back at the school, too, for stretching and routine run-overs.

But it’s Senior year and somehow the word ice cream got thrown around in a conversation he and Lucille were having back at school, so they said fuck it and snuck out to make their way to Creme Cup, a local burger joint and the neighborhood hot spot where all the hip teens go to gossip and make out and eat ice cream and burgers.

They’d ordered one large cherry queer, gotten two straws and sat in a booth, facing each other. He and Lucille go to Creme Cup often, sometimes with other friends but mostly as a pair, and all of the employees think they’re dating, and they coo over their shoulders about how cute they are together: The captain of the Basketball team and the co-captain of the cheer squad, a picture perfect high school image made for a Norman Rockwell calendar or some shit.

Negan with his Texas tanned skin and his dark hair and matching eyes, all long and lean and tight; and Lucille who looks like a Goddess in her cheer uniform, with her wild corkscrew curls thrown up in a high pony, pulling her round face taut, accentuating all the sharp features her DNA gave her to compensate for her pudgy cheeks.

But Lucille’s openly lesbian, Negan can’t keep a steady relationship (why should he, he’s only eighteen?) and the only reason they decided to share was because Negan could barely scrape up the two dollars and ninety three cents required for the large using the sticky, crumpled change lying in the cupholders of his truck- plus, Lucille forgot her wallet.

Simply put, the two of them are nothing but best friends:

(“You know why they call ‘em queers?” Negan asked.

“Yeah,” she stated bluntly, like she thinks Negan is an idiot.

Negan dismissed her answer and continued anyway, “Because back in the sixties, some dude came in and asked for a slushie with ice cream in the fucking middle and the dude next to him saw that and said ‘Woah, that’s queer’ and the name just stuck. Imagine that… A fucking entrepreneur, that man was. A town legend.. Bet that dude was a fucking stoner, too.”

“I told you, I fucking know. Everyone who's ever had a queer fucking knows that.”)

They get back to school and rush to sneak into the gym.

“This uniform is a bitch,” Lucille mutters, pulling out a wedgie as they hurry through the halls, beating past the hyper little kids and their counterpart parents and all the too-cool underclassmen waiting in line for tickets to the game.

She speaks so that only her friend can hear her, not that she’d care if anyone else had, too.

Negan fixes his junk, confined by tight, burgundy cotton, “Speaking of uniforms- Dude, they passed my fucking bill to make the shorts shorter this year. Just below the asscheeks, baby, that’s what I’m fuckin’ talkin’ about.”

“Really? Couldn’t tell,” Her voice is sarcastic, glancing pointedly at Negan’s very bare and tan thighs.

Most of the hypermasculine members of the team detested the shortening of the shorts, but being Captain sure gives you a hell of a lot of say so, and hey, in the end, the less clothing weighing you down on the court, the better.

“I’ll make my first shot in these badboys- three pointer, nothing but fuckin’ net, nothing weighing me down, not even my own fuckin’ worries- and point at you, and the crowd’ll go fuckin’ banana nut insane,” Negan mimes the scenario, making an exaggerated _swoosh_ sound as he pretends to shoot an overhead hoop, and just as he’s in the middle of doing so, he runs into someone, shoving them unintentionally with his elbow.

“Hey, watch where you’re going next time, dumbass!” He yells and looks back to see who he’s trucked, still rushing to the gym alongside Lucille.

He sees it’s his classmate- the one with the curly hair and the bowlegs that he used to be pretty good friends with. Shit, what was his name?

Bowlegs turns too, and yells back at him, slightly annoyed but restrained, “You’re supposed to be in the locker room, dammit! Coach is lookin’ for you!”

His voice fades as they move farther and farther from each other, and Negan keeps his neck craned towards Bowlegs even as he rounds the corner, even when Bowlegs is no longer looking back at him, but running off some place else.

Bowlegs has a nice fuckin’ ass.

-

It happens really fast, as most injuries do when you’re pumped full of adrenaline and not expecting to get fucked up.

One second his teammate is passing him the ball, and he’s dodge stepping between the visiting team’s players, ready to make a sick ass shot- which he does- but he doesn't notice the dude on his tail, trying and failing to play defense on his shot. Once his ball has gone through the net, and gravity does its job of returning Negan to the floor after his jump, gravity also does it's job of sending his opponent back down to the ground, or rather back down on Negan's leg. 

The dude is tall, taller than Negan, and way muscular, too- a kind of heavy lean that Negan's limb gets to know pretty well. 

A thread of pain rips throughout the length of his shin as he rolls on the floor, out of bounds. The tall dude rolls off of him easily, no damage taking a toll on him as he gets to his feet and reaches out to offer Negan a hand in show of good sportsmanship.

Negan figures _maybe_ he can walk off the pain, and finish the game like the fucking rockstar he is- so he grabs his hand and attempts to get back on his feet. Immediately, he knows something is wrong when the pain only grows instead of fades and he lets out a pained yell as the dude lays him carefully on the ground, mumbling an  _Oh shit_ as he removes himself from the scene, signaling for help but getting nothing. 

“Trainer!” Negan cries, biting down hard on his bottom lip in attempts to get his mind off of the pain in his leg, “ _For fuck’s sake!_ Sports trainer!” He yells again and a whistle is blown, finally.

He hears the sounds of steps rushing towards him until someone’s flush at his side, kneeling down to his level and asking frantically, “What’s wrong? What’s wrong?? Where does it hurt?”

Negan’s eyes are scrunched up in pain, but he can hear the voice: It’s Bowlegs, his old friend. He can’t bring himself to be bothered, however, because the pain in his leg has him in a minor state of shock, his adrenaline making him go numb and hot.

“My leg’s fucked,” he manages to get out, and Bowlegs, thinking the basketball player must be cramping, grabs ahold of his leg, stretching his hamstring pretty far back, using his hips to press the stretch in further, his grip killer as it wreaks havoc on Negan’s bare thigh.

Negan cries out- mostly because of the depth of the stretch, but also because of the uncomfortable setting of his leg- and the surprise of it all sends his eyes finally flying open.

He meets Bowlegs’ eyes, sees the panic and the almost unnatural shade of blue looking back at him, and that’s when he remembers; recalling a memory that really isn't far off from the moment they're caught in now.

Negan, six years old, on the scratchy gravel of the road in front of his house, clutching his scraped and no doubt bruised knee whilst his ankle throbbed angrily after having fallen off his beloved Razor scooter, and Rick- who had just moved into the house next door not even two days ago- coming to the stranger child's aid, looking up at him with blue eyes so bright.

Negan, at his young age, had never seen eyes that color, eyes that vivid. Every person with blue eyes he had come by, their gaze really seemed more like a slate color- more gray than blue.

“Are you okay?” asked Negan's new neighbor, containing an honest sympathy and concern that poured the contents of the sweetness and good hospitality in his young heart.

“I'm Negan,” Negan had said, dumbly, his pain subsiding in the cool pool of blue he bored into, “Your… Blue.” He had forgotten to say ‘eyes are’, his head in a dazed spell as a product of pain and incredulity.

"No, I'm Rick," Rick had said, confused by Negan's accusations.

Then the injured boy had lost consciousness soon after Rick's words, according to both his parents and Rick himself.

Now Negan knows:

Bowlegs is Blue, and Blue is Rick.

He looks up into the eyes holding their names sake, feels a wonky smirk come into place.

“Hey, Blue,” he greets, woozily calm, and the last thing he sees before he passes out is Rick giving him an incredulous look, his blue eyes glowing with amuse.

Rick looks down at Negan as his head hits the polished wood of the gym floor, and shakes his head in humored disbelief; no one has called him Blue since middle school. Especially since Negan was the only one who used to call him that.

-

When Negan wakes up again in the emergency room, his parents doting by his side, he learns he’s only suffered a minor, incomplete break of his tibia.

It’s a little embarrassing that he passed out, but hey, Negan has always been a bit of a huge pussy when it comes to pain.

He also learns he’ll be in recovery for nearly half the season, and that bums him out like nothing else because he fucking loves basketball games and because that means all his hard work campaigning for shorter shorts will be half in vain.

He finds a happy medium though when he returns to school in crutches, his leg wrapped thick in a cast, and his ass donning the wonderful burgundy cotton of the basketball shorts he worked so hard to get.

_“What?”_ Negan spits towards some Freshmen dweeb who's looking at him a little too closely as he crutches down the halls, “Never seen a dude with a fucked up leg before?”

Lucille, walking at a snail’s pace to keep up with Negan, suggests, “I don’t think it’s your leg they're looking at, idiot." She gives him a pointed nod towards his lap, face curled in reasonable discomfort.

Negan steals a glance at his dick, sees himself a little dislodged. “Goddammit,” he sighs, stopping to lean against a wall and adjust himself, “Today is just not my fucking day.”

Just as he says that, he spots Rick turning the corner, books in his hand, jeans on his ass, looking like a sight for sore eyes.

Negan recalls those eyes of his being the last thing he’d seen before he faded into black.

Shit… Rick did some growing up, huh? No more baby cheeks and hair too big for his own body. Still got those bowlegs, though… but they're kinda cute. Really cute, actually- looks like he's been riding horses half his life or something.

“You know Rick?” Negan asks Lucille, still leaning onto the wall as he stares without inhibition at the boy strutting down the hall.

“Yeah,” Lucille says, scrunching her brows at Negan, “He's in my feminist book club. Why?”

Negan spares her a smirk, saying, “He's cute, ain't he?”

Lucille gives him a tired look, equipped with a matching sigh before she begins walking off, “Leave him alone, you skank. He's a nice kid.”

Negan watches her start away, her skirt swaying to the metronome of her heeled boots clinking against the hard tile of the floor.

_Trust me,_ he thinks in response to her words, _I know._

He averts his gaze back towards Rick, sees him just at the end of the hall, clothed in the sparse cover of all the other students around him, just about to turn the corner and leave Negan’s sights.

“Screw it,” he mumbles to himself, tearing away from the wall and steeling his aching biceps for the efforts he's going to have to make.

“Hey, Blue! Wait up!” Negan yells, working double time to crutch himself towards the boy who’s now looking back at him, an unreadable look on his smiling face.

Rick, as polite and kind as ever, meets Negan halfway down the hall, saving him some energy.

“Jesus,” Negan breathes heavily, “You always... walk that damn fast?”

“I was walking at a normal pace-”

“Where ya’ headed?” Negan asks, not letting him finish “Maybe I could… crutch you to class?” He gives the boy a wink that’s more than friendly, tapping the rubber end of his walking device against the toe of Rick’s brown cowboy boots.

Rick stares at him blankly, slightly taken aback, “I’m headed the same place you are. I’m in your next class.”

“You are?”

_Shit… way to go, Negan._

“Yeah, I am,” he says, shaking his head, “But that’s not important. I was lookin’ for you, actually.”

Negan raises a delighted eyebrow, “Oh, you were?”

Rick rolls his eyes, “Yeah, I was,” he says pointedly, “Are you gonna keep askin’ me questions about shit I already gave you answers to?”

“Geez, I wasn’t doing it on purpose, you dick.”

Rick glares up at him wordlessly before he just turns and walks away.

It’s almost as if he knows Negan will follow him. Rick hasn’t known much of the boy for quite some time, at least not anything that wasn’t word of mouth, but he thinks he knows that much.

And that he does, because he hears the sounds of Negan’s efforts clicking behind him, following him all the way into the school elevator.

There’s plenty of room for them to have their personal bubble of space in said elevator, but Negan sidles up beside Rick, pressed shoulder to shoulder and turning his head towards the boy.

“So why were you looking for me, huh?” He asks.

Negan’s tone has this suggestive lilt that crawls beneath Rick’s skin, and his bare thigh is pressed against the black denim of his jeans, warmth seeping through the material- a juxtaposition alongside the cold stiffness of the metal crutch also pressed against Rick's leg.

Negan leans back restfully onto the wall of the elevator.

He smells like armpit sweat and his chest is heaving from all the lugging around of his own weight, but Rick looks over at him and sees this childlike glint in his eyes so very brown that make the tall teen not as insufferable as he could be.

As he should be.

There's something in his eyes that Rick can recognize so easily, something Rick wants to hold onto, something that used to be the only thing Rick had to hold onto way back when.

He pulls out a card from the small pocket of his backpack and flashes it towards Negan.

_Elevator Pass_ , it reads.

“I’m your hall buddy,” Rick admits, “Gonna be your hall buddy ‘til that leg of yours heals up.”

_The perks of being a sports trainer,_ Rick thinks, unsure if his mental means it sarcastically or not. He knew he shouldn’t have volunteered, but he did, and now here he is.

Well… you live and you learn.

Negan’s lips stretch into a smile that’s so wide it nearly looks fake and it _definitely_ looks painful.

“Well… I’ll be damned, Blue,” he says, low and smooth, and then he’s looking away from Rick and straight ahead at the shiny metal doors, “You feel that?”

Rick raises an eyebrow, confused. All he feels is Negan's too warm leg pressed against his.

“No.”

“You hear that?”

All he hears is Negan's breathing finally evening out and the muted sounds of hallway shenanigans as their elevator ride comes to a stop

“No.”

“I do,” Negan says as the shiny doors part, jolly despite Rick’s insubordinance, “Sounds like a fuckin’ blessing to me... feels like one, too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll probably post the second chapter pretty soon and then this fic will maybe be on a short hiatus while I finish up Ill Try Anything Once and come to terms with it being over lmao.  
> Thank you all for reading!! I hope you all enjoyed and as always, feedback and constructive criticism are more than welcome :) <3


	2. Red

Negan never knew just how many classes he had with Rick.

Frankly, it's weird to think that someone who he used to be so close to, someone that he used to spend sunrise to sundown with just being kids and causing trouble with, went invisible to his eye for so long.

It makes him wonder just how many classes he's had with Rick in these past four years of high school, and if Rick ever saw him or if he was just as invisible to Rick as Rick had been to Negan.

Now it's different.

Now it seems like Rick is the only thing Negan can see most of the time, and he tells himself it's just because Rick is good looking and familiar.

Familiar in a way that nearly none of his other friends are.

All of the friends Negan has now he hadn’t had before high school. Nobody wanted to be his friend before then.

Why? Because he was a little chunky, he cursed too much (which scared his classmates), and he wasn’t captain of the varsity basketball team back then.

Not that it mattered to Negan that he had close to no friends.

No, it didn’t matter- it didn’t matter for a long ass time, because from kindergarten to seventh grade, Negan had Rick Grimes by his side.

But then he left, and that was that and Negan was alone, spending his time cursing his newfound tweenager-ness for not even bothering to try to make at least one other friend outside of Rick.

He never thought he would need one, didn’t really know how to find one since his social skills- or rather, lack thereof- had been set in stone for some time already.

All he wanted to do was thirteen year old shit like watch Naruto and eat Doritos and not do his homework.

In retrospect, he can recognize the slight depression he had welted into at that point of his life, and at the time of its settling, his parents sure as hell noticed it, and were more than concerned.

His adoptive mother, with skin the color of russet and hair graying near the temples had talked to him more than once about it, asking, “ _Mijo_ , what’s wrong?”

And all Negan would do in response was ask “Where’s Rick?” or “What happened to Rick?” or “Why did Rick move?”

His mother would purse her lips, caught in the conflict of knowing just a bit but also not enough. What she did know for sure was that Negan was still too young to understand fully, and too sheltered to sympathize.

“That’s none of our business, _mijo_ ,” She’d say, melancholy flooding her eyes and her words on behalf of both her son and the situation.

Her answers were always of no help, but the touch of her motherly hand, reassuring him with a rub of a shoulder or a hand raking through his hair, was always warming to the spirit and calming of the mind.

Like that, Negan knew mothers inherited magic and oozed wisdom, so when she insisted he try and make new friends, or joins some clubs at school, or try out for some sports teams, Negan obliged.

That's how Negan ended up trying out for the basketball team in eighth grade.

He was really shitty at it, but he thought it was fun. He liked going out of town for games and having his parents support him so proudly despite his lack of skill. He liked the new friends he was making, even if they weren’t so nice sometimes and he had to learn how to defend himself against their cruel words. Hell, as long as they made him less lonely, that was good by him.

He liked that all the conditioning for basketball gave him some exercise and that he started losing some weight, because he figured now that he wasn’t so chunky, people outside of basketball would actually want to be his friend. Plus all the girls noticing that he actually had cheekbones was pretty nice.

Because of that, he learned to love basketball. He strived to get better at it, and so he did.

He wanted to lose more weight, so he changed his diet.

He wanted to get more cool friends, so he started hanging out with the jocks who were now starting to respect him because of his potential on the court.

He wanted a girlfriend, so he tried picking one out of the crowd of pretty girls at his school, thinking with his newfound popularity and bodily aesthetics, it would be easy.

It was Freshman year and her name was Lucille and she was new to town. She was chubby around the middle and her thighs jiggled when she walked, but she didn’t care and she still looked great in her cheerleading outfit.

Negan admired that with a fierce passion, and deep down wished he could’ve been like that instead of having had to make himself change.

He started talking to her and she was kind of a bitch and Negan liked that, too. He could be a bitch sometimes as well. Actually, he _had_ to be a bitch most of the time, had to show these punks that he thought he was the shit and no one else could reach his level- even though on the inside, he hated himself just a little. Sometimes a lot.

That year he asked her to Homecoming and she said “Sure, fine, whatever,” and Negan was thrilled. Just like all the other pea-brained boys he thought _‘Will you go to Homecoming with me?’_ meant _‘Hey, do you wanna fuck?’_ and that _‘Sure, fine, whatever, I’ll go to Homecoming with you,’_ meant _‘Boy, oh boy, yes do I wanna fuck!’_

When they were alone in the back of the limo he and his group of friends had rented for the night, and he had tried to make a move on her, she had clocked him right in the nose and said, “What the fuck, are you an idiot? I’m a lesbian, you dipshit!”

Negan held onto his gushing nose, taken aback by her actions, and said, “You said you wanted to fucking go to Homecoming!”

“Yeah, I said I wanted to go to _Homecoming!_ Not that I wanted to fuck you, you shrimpdick!”

“Fair play,” Negan had said, voice nasal from where he was pinching his nose, and he sat still in his seat, trying to reel in the pain and toss it away.

Everything went quiet and when he looked over at Lucille he noticed she had put a considerable amount of space between them, and that she looked scared and unsure, her chubby cheeks set still in a weary frown as she tried desperately to cover herself with the sheer, white shawl draped around her shoulders.

Negan was instantly hit with a train of guilt and it dawned on him that what he did was not fucking cool- not fucking cool at all. He wished he had known that sooner.

It also dawned on him that Lucille was probably not the only girl who would have that same look on their face tonight, and he felt sick with disgust.

Negan apologized and it was the most sincere thing to come out of his mouth since he became a freshman-playing-on-varsity Basketball God. Then he asked the chauffeur to drive them home and they did.

The next day, Negan couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling on him still, and he texted Lucille trying to find ways to make it up to her- if he even could.

 _Creme Cup on me?_ He had texted her, _Not a d8 tho.. I didnt kno u were a lesb1an_

He swapped thei for a 1 in hopes to lighten the mood. To this day Negan still thinks that's the reason she even went through with it.

Over cherry queers Negan had asked Lucille, “How do you know if you’re a lesbian?” Genuinely curious as to how to figure those kinds of things out since he’d been having some.. thoughts lately about some of his Senior teammates.

“Cause I fucking like girls,” Lucille answered bluntly around a mouth full of ice cream.

“So if I like boys, does that mean I’m gay?” Negan asked, anticipating the answer of a lifetime.

“Why don’t you ask your Mom?” Lucille spat, and Negan, not knowing her words were just a childish retort, took her advice.

Only his Mom wasn’t there when he got home so he had to ask his Dad.

“Dad, if I like boys does that mean I’m gay?”

 _“QUE??”_ His dad practically yelled in disbelief, feeling like he’d heard his son wrong as he paused whatever he was watching on television.

“If I like boy does that mean I’m gay?” Negan repeats, unabashed.

“Why? Do you like boys?”

“I think so, yeah.”

Negan’s father softened as he begin to think and consider.

“Do you like girls?”

“Yeah.. a lot.”

“Well then you like both,” he concluded, and unpaused the television.

“Is there a word for that?”

Negan figured there must be a word for liking both girls and boys if there was one for girls liking only girls and boys liking only boys. He thought he'd heard it before, too, but maybe he had the wrong word in mind. He'd just wanted to make sure.

His father sighed, thinking there was no way his son could be _that_ innocent.

But the question was not derived from innocence, just from lack of both education and awareness.

“It’s called bisexual, _mijo_ ,” He stated, and the word sounded almost foreign, it was said so rarely, both from his father and from anywhere else, it seemed.

Negan nodded, satisfied for the time being as he absorbed the information.

“Okay.”

Needless to say, Negan’s years before and during High School, trying to make friends and lose his virginity and get better at basketball, were nothing less than occupied and all consuming.

That’s why he had no time to notice Rick Grimes had moved back into town Freshman year.

-

“That fucker’s looking at me funny,” Negan murmurs to Rick as the curly haired teen escorts him to his next class- a class they share together- eyeing a harmless student with his own malevolent gaze.

“He’s not even lookin’ at you, Negan,” Rick sighs, looking towards the kid Negan’s marking as his prey, and recognizing him as his friend Maggie’s alleged boyfriend. He’s also in Lucille’s feminist book club, but his name can’t reach Rick’s head. He’d just barely joined this week. “He’s lookin’ down at his papers,” Rick says.

“Well he _was_ looking at me and I didn’t like how he was fuckin’ looking at me!” Negan justifies and before Rick can ask _how_ the kid was even looking at him, Negan sticks his crutch out towards the opposite lane of oncoming hall traffic, right before the path of the kid who was truly minding his own business, unaware of his soon to be met demise.

Rick opens his mouth to call out a warning, but his actions are in vain, and he watches with a stomach full of dread as the unfortunate boy falls flat on his face, books and papers fleeing from his grip, baseball cap falling far from his head.

All of the rambling, chattering teens in the hall seem to fall silent for a long second, reeling in the inhales of their shocked gasps before a chorus of laughter begins to sound- stemming from one student before many others begin to follow.

“Negan, my man!” One of Negan’s team mates, Simon is his name, yells above the raucous, coming up to give his injured comrade and slick high five, “Good one, dude. A fuckin’ classic.”

Negan gives a self righteous smirk in response, and Simon treks on, stepping over the fallen boy as he makes his way to his class.

Rick watches the exchange in disdain, the feeling making him shake his head.

“Sorry, buddy,” Negan says to the underclassmen who’s still on the ground, but his tone reveals that he is farthest from it, that he’s in fact just mocking, “That one’s on me! My crutch musta slipped! Boy, they _really_ shouldn’t wax these floors so damn hard; you fell so goddamn bad your hat’s all the way in the fuckin’ cafeteria!”

Rick feels his jaw clench tightly, his teeth aching and his stomach flooding with a thick disappointment as he looks at his long lost friend.

He finds the teen is now someone who’s really not the type of person he'd call his friend at all.

Negan crutches off, expecting the sports trainer to follow suit, but instead, Rick steps over to the scene, helping the boy get up off the floor.

“Are you alright?” Rick asks sympathetically.

The kid moves to sit up against the wall, head hanging off to the side in defeat, “Yeah… Yeah, I guess.”

“What’s your name?”

His tone is self deprecating and full of defeat as he says, "You don't care."

“Yes, I do,” Rick insists, adding, “I’m not with that- that asshole.. I wasn’t in on that."

That gets the kid to look up at him, assessing his face, reading in for answers. He must find something good enough, because then he says, “I’m Glenn-" a sigh, "Glenn Rhee.”

“Glenn Rhee,” Rick says lowly, rolling the name around in his mouth, “You’re Maggie’s boyfriend, right?”

Glenn sighs, slumping even further, “No…”

“Oh,” Rick says, awkwardly, “My bad.”

“It’s alright,” Glenn says it as though it's been politely rehearsed time and time again, like he’s been asked that question profusely, “Everyone thinks that.”

Rick’s sure there’s a lot more behind that story, but knows that’s none of his business.

So instead of voicing his inquiries, he makes work of gathering all of Glenn’s fallen papers and books.

“Rick!” A voice calls out from down the long hall, and Rick notes with contempt that it’s Negan’s, “Why the fuck are you helping him?? He’s got both his damn legs, nevermind that he doesn’t know how to use ‘em! _I’m_ the one on crutches here!”

 _What a fucking brat_ Rick thinks as he rolls his eyes, silently flipping Negan the bird to send him on his merry way.

“Alright,” Negan laughs, full of venomous amuse as he crutches down the hall, “I see how it fuckin’ is.”

Crouched on the floor together, Rick and Glenn watch him leave, both wearing various degrees and breeds of irritation.

“How do the teachers never get him in trouble for cussing so freaking much?” Glenn wonders aloud.

Rick shakes his head, watching the pitiful basketball player feign struggle as he says, distantly, “I don’t fucking know.”

Just then an administrator passes by, monotonously saying, “Watch your mouth, sir,” as they pass by so fleetingly.

Rick and Glenn share a look, huffing a laugh of disbelief at the impeccable timing.

“My point exactly,” Glenn says.

Rick helps gather the rest of Glenn's papers, then ventures out of the hall to grab his baseball cap, replacing it on the kids head of matted down hair.

“You sure you’re alright?” Rick asks again, and when Glenn assures that yes, he is, Rick hurries down the length of the hall, bidding his goodbye as he heads toward the basketball player still faking his struggle.

“Hey, drama queen,” Rick calls, gaining Negan’s attention, “What the hell was that back there? You just tripped Glenn for no reason!”

“I told you he was looking at me funny,” Negan says, disregarding Rick’s look of disappointment and sticking to his reasons, as corrupt as they are.

Rick scoffs, “Yeah, well I’m sure if you saw a six foot two dickhead with a broken leg in crutches, you’d stare too.”

Negan stops crutching, turning to look at Rick, “Wah, wah, wah- look, I get it, pushing him was _mean_ , what the fuck ever. He’ll get over it. Hell, he’s probably forgotten all about it by now.”

Rick looks into his eyes, fighting hard in this staring contest they now hold, doing some studying while he’s there.

Same hazel colored eyes, same long, curly eyelashes. His face is slimmer now, cheekbones fashionably gaunt- same with his jawline. Perhaps now he’s more good looking in the social sense of the word, but beneath his smooth, perfect skin and his dreamy looks, Rick sees ugliness, accompanied by insecurity.

“Did you forget about all those people who pushed you around when you were younger?” Rick asks intently, and he watches all the subtle nuances about Negan’s face. A twitch of something; Rick hopes it’s empathy.

“All those people who _tripped_ you? _Laughed_ at you? Made you _cry?_ ”

“That was different, okay?” Negan cuts in harshly and his warm eyes turn cold and placid, “This is high school. It’s a fucking social food chain- not my fault if that kids at the bottom of it.”

Rick rolls his eyes, and begins to walk, Negan following suit, “His name is _Glenn_ … and you sound like an idiot. Yeah, it's high school- not the damn apocalypse.”  
-

 _So he remembers_ , Negan thinks,  _he remembers everything._

Of course he does. How could he forget? That would be a real shitty thing to do- even Negan thinks that, and he’s the King of doing shitty things.

They went through a lot together, he and Rick.

Negan forgets about their little quarrel in the hall over the asian kid he _accidentally_ tripped- what was his name? Gwen? Either way, he’s already gotten over that- so what if other people haven’t? If people are still laughing about it, or if Gwen is still sulking about, or if Rick is, too.

He’s got no time to waste, especially when it comes to Rick.

Negan will only be broken for so long, meaning Rick will only be his hall buddy for so long.

Not that Negan doubts his abilities to lure the boy in- it's just better to be safe than sorry, and the sooner the better, as they say.

Negan catches Rick after school, putting books in his locker and grabbing a spare change of clothes, and he sneaks up on him the best he can with his crutches.

Rick hears him approaching, but tries his best to ignore it, even when he feels Negan loitering by his shoulder.

“Cute locker,” the crippled man says, coloring his voice with a silky lilt that Rick is not so familiar with.

He studies the inside of the boy’s locker, looking at all the magnets and the schedules and the sticky note memos. “Who’s that?” He asks, pointing to a picture of a vintage looking woman with her mouth wide open, singing.

“That’s Billie Holiday,” Rick answers tersely.

“Who?”

Rick rolls his eyes, and Negan sees how his skin says to forget about it.

Then the locker is being shut, and Rick's boring into Negan's eyes with an impatient gaze.

“What do you want, Negan? Gonna trip me with your crutch cause I looked at you for a nanosecond too long?”

“Let's go to Creme Cup," Negan says, unabashed, "I’ll buy you some ice cream.”

Negan sticks to suave, knows it's foolproof- and always has been- when it comes to scoring a date. Works every time- or so he thinks.

Rick sees through the gooey look Negan is giving him and laughs.

“Yeah, no thanks.”

Negan's cool look fades, switching immediately to an indignant scowl.

“Why not?”

“Because,” Rick supplies, walking past the taller boy, a bit of strut in his step as he makes his way down the hall and through the doors of the building, “I have practice.”

Negan follows, crutching rapidly behind him, “Practice for what?” He asks as Rick holds the door open for him.

He earns a blank look.

“Track,” he says, sarcastically adding, “I've only made it to state every year of high school, don't blame you for not knowing.”

Negan shrugs it off, “So after practice- I’ll pick you up when you're ready, just give me your number.”

Rick laughs again, gives him a look that says _I know what you're trying to do_ and shakes his head.

“You can't even drive.”

“Yeah, well-”

“Maybe some other time,” Rick says, to hold him over.

“Tomorrow?” He prods.

Rick shakes his head, “Nope. Can't.”

“Why?”

“I have a book club meeting, and then track practice after, then chores.”

“So Friday,” Negan says.

“Can't.”

“ _Why?”_

“I've got to go to the mathletes convention to take pictures for yearbook.”

Negan huffs, “Well then Saturday.”

“Can't.”

Negan doesn't bother saying anything, just gives the boy a disgruntled look.

“What?” Rick asks, feeling as though he doesn't deserve that face, “I've gotta go to the band competition out of town! It's two hours away, I'm gonna be gone all day.”

“You're a busy boy, ain't you, Blue?” Negan asks as they come to a stop by the gates of the football field. He tries not to let the disappointment come through in his tone, masking the sound with irritation instead.

“I am,” Rick agrees placidly, not looking at Negan now, but past the metal of the gates and at the artificial green of the carpet grass that makes up the football field.

“Why?” Negan asks.

Rick shrugs, “It's high school, right? Senior year. Just tryin’ to milk it for all it's worth.”

Negan reads what he can of Rick's face (the side of his face), tries to look past the beauty his skin emits when the sun hits the high points of his structure, and dip into that near psychic bond they used to share as kids.

With the connection they had, it took just one glance at any nuance or any line on either's face for the other to know exactly what was going on, what they were feeling.

It's an old power, dusty and weak in its telepathy and so unpracticed, but Negan feels something.

He knows there's more. Something more.

In the end, Negan shrugs, feigning blase that he normally does not have to feign, and crutches off.

“Your loss,” he chides, and heads towards the student parking lot, where he finds Lucille: his ride home.

When she tries to help Negan into the passenger's seat, he swats her away, muttering something about how he can do it himself, but of course with more swears.

Lucille shakes it off, finding no offense.

“Hey sweetcheeks, why the long face?” She quips as she pulls out of the parking lot, Negan slumping in his seat, arms crossed over his chest.

“Shut up,” Negan murmurs, but eventually adds, “Fucking hate being all broken and shit. Making me lose my fucking mojo. No one wants to fuck the dude with the fucked up leg, Lucy, _no one.”_

“Wow, you ableist fuck,” she says, “I'm guessing Rick didn't fall for your tang scoring smooth talk, huh?”

“I don't wanna fuckin’ talk about that right now,” he says, annoyed, “I'll get him, alright? It’ll just take a little more time than I'm used to.”

She scoffs, “Yeah, alright.”

“I mean it,” he says, “by the time my leg is fucking healed, Blue will just be another notch in my goddamn leather belt.”

“Blue?”

“Rick,” Negan supplies, a bit embarrassed that he let that slip, “... It's a long fucking story.”

“Yeah, well you better spill those damn beans.”

Negan sighs, and it sounds foreign to Lucille's ears. For once it sounds genuinely distressed, and not at all petulant or bratty.

“Not now,” is all he says.

She spares a look at Negan who's leaning against the window of the passengers seat, picking at the plaster of his cast, looking far away.

“Fine.”

The rest of the ride is silent -save for quiet music and minor road rage- up until they pass by Rick's old house, just before Negan's.

“So,” Negan says as Lucille parks in his driveway, “What do you do in this _feminist book club.”_

She blinks, “We fucking read books.”

“That's it?”

“That's the jist of it. We talk about the book we read as a group, and we share our feelings and opinions on it in an environment that's safe for all gender identities, races, and social backgrounds. Sometimes we just sit and talk about whatever concerns us. I don't fucking know, it's a damn book club.”

“That sounds fucking lame.”

“... Get out of my fucking car.”

“When do you guys meet?”

“Mondays, Wednesdays, Thursdays, you big fuck.”

“Is there room for one more?”

“Oh my _God!_ ” She groans, “I swear to God, you are _not_ using _my_ book club, the club I worked my ass off all of Freshman year to get approved, as a fucking gateway to get into Rick Grimes’ pants!”

“C’mon, Lucy, _please!_ ” He begs, moving in closer to her and grabbing her wrist pleadingly, “Have you seen him? He's fucking gorgeous as fuck! I _have_ to have him, Lucy, _please!_ I’ll read the books and everything, I'll be apart of the group, I swear.”

“No, Negan! Fuck no!”

“If he wants me out, I'll leave, that's it! I'll find some other way to get to him, just let me try this out. I read all seventy two volumes of Naruto, I'm not completely useless; I can contribute, I swear!”

Lucille huffs a sigh, banging her head against the steering wheel and grumbling.

“Fine,” she mutters after a while, sharpening suddenly when she points a stern finger at him and says, “But I swear, if you make _anyone_ uncomfortable, I will kick your fucking broken ass-”

“My leg is broken not my ass-”

“Shut up! I swear to God, Negan, don't fucking cross me. My book club is a safe space for so many goddamn people and if you fuck that up I will mutilate you, you got me?”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, whatever,” Negan waves a dismissive hand, finally moving to get out of the girls car, “What book are we reading tomorrow?”

Lucille grimaces, running a weary hand through her messy curls, defeatedly saying,“We’re picking a new one for the next week. You'll see tomorrow.”

Negan gives her a wicked grin, “Oh, I love you, Lucy. I fucking owe you one, babe.”

“Please kill me then,” Lucille deadpans, “take my fucking car and run it over my soulless body until I stop twitching.”

Negan smirks. “That's some deep ass poetry shit. You should share it at tomorrow's book club meeting,” he quips.

She flips him off tastefully and Negan finally shuts the passenger's door, leaving her on her way.

-

Negan’s lounging in the kitchen eating goldfish crackers and watching Spongebob Squarepants on the small TV on the counter when he hears his Dad call out for him all the way from the garage.

“Negan!”

“Yeah?!”

He gets silence in return and he knows what that means: he has to fucking move.

Negan grabs his crutches, mumbling small curses to his broken leg under his breath as he lugs his body over to the garage, biceps flaring a burn he’s become accustomed to.

He’s also become accustomed to flexing his guns in the mirror when he’s all alone in his room, because hey, might as well enjoy one of the few fruits of his injury.

“Yeah?” Negan says again, quieter now that he’s close to his Dad.

“ _Miralo,_ ” He says excitedly, and his father pulls the cover off of what Negan can only assume to be a car, since they _are_ in a garage and his Dad is a mechanic, “ _Recuerdas esto?"_

When Negan’s eyes meet glossy, candy apple red and the silvery mustang on the grill, he hears himself let out a gasp.

“Holy shit!" He hollers, "Of fucking course I remember this! It’s the horse!”

He beams, and his Dad slaps him upside the head for cursing, but it doesn’t register with him and he instead goes to crutch around the car, taking in all it’s unprecedented sleekness.

Last time he saw this thing, he was thirteen and it was dying of what his Dad called cancer (which was really just rust), and it was nothing but a prop- a trophy that could not run.

He remembers when it wasn’t so rusty- he was about eight, maybe nine, and he and Rick were obsessed with the thing. They’d spend hours sitting inside of the convertible, drawing on the dust covered leather seats, playing pretend as they took turns in the driver’s seat imagining they were street racers, zooming down the road with no care for law, only to be swatted off the car by Negan’s parents.

Even then they didn’t separate from the vehicle, just laid all around it, touching the texture of the rust that dressed the exterior because they were kids and had no morale of what was gross and what was not, and touching the web of the grill, petting the silky smooth chrome of the silver mustang that laid on top of it.

They started calling the red convertible _the horse_ , always wanted to play with the horse, always wanted to pet it, always spent hours talking about driving it one day, when they were finally the old and mature age of sixteen.

He chuckles at the memories.

Not long after Rick had moved, Negan’s Dad said he was taking the horse back to his shop, that there was someone willing to take the damsel in distress out of his hands.

“I thought you sold her?” Negan says, still buzzing with elation, “You took her back to the shop, you said you were gonna sell her.”

His Dad shrugs, “The guy never showed; I’m glad he didn’t. Started working on it bit by bit, ordering parts, bargaining for good prices. Five fuckin’ years to get the horse running _pero esta corriendo.”_

Negan shakes his head slightly. He feels a little dizzy, so much happy is running through his head.

He can’t believe the horse is back.

“You remember what I’d tell you? When you asked if this could be your car when you started driving?”

Negan nods, but his Dad continues.

“I’d say, _si Dios quiere_ \- if God wants.”

Negan hears the jingle of keys, feels the feeling of cold metal and plastic meeting his palm.

“It’s yours- _por que Dios queria._ ”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading! I hope you enjoyed and as always, feedback and constructive criticism are more than welcome. :) <3


	3. Pink

Part one of Negan's plan to get closer to Rick is to quite literally get closer to Rick.

But in the subtlest of ways, of course...baby steps.

He can't look too desperate, after all.

Subtlety, however, is not one of Negan's strong suits, no matter how much he thinks it is, and to add to that, he’s too overzealous to know when he's crossing the line of desperacy.

Both of those points are proven true when he starts sitting right beside Rick in every class they have together.

And if the seat beside Rick had already been taken, well, Negan did not have the time to care or consider it. Instead, he did his best at guilt tripping or intimidating whoever it took to make them give up their seat.

What Negan lacked in subtlety he made up for in power.

And that alone was enough to just dig right beneath the deepest layer of Rick's skin.

Hypodermis… that's what that's called, right? That's the deepest layer of the skin?

Rick _should_ know- They've been going over the different layers of the skin in first period anatomy- but their teacher has literally been gone since the second day of school because she is quite literally allergic to the school and the mold in the vents or whatever, so he has no one to hound for answers and suggestions on what to study, and now that Negan has left his assigned seat in the back of the class to join Rick without invitation, the latter can't really listen as well as he used to. Or think for that matter.

Not when there's a giant lump of a benign cyst of a boy latched right onto his side, making stupid remarks and thinking aloud as if he's got the keys to the universe laden beneath every word he speaks.

And that's only his first period; the majority of his classes go on like this, too, and it makes Rick wonder what the hell he did to deserve this.

Then again, there had been nights where he'd quite literally prayed for this, for Negan to come back into his life.

He didn't think things would have changed so much in the span of the two years he'd been gone, but they did and it was enough to make Rick invisible to Negan.

Now that his old friend is back, Rick knows to heed that age old saying of be careful what you wish for.

Today, however, Negan is quieter than what's normal, and when Rick turns to assess why, he sees the boy with his arms crossed around his chest and his chin tucked down, head drifting lower and lower until it goes loose against the hinge and it bobs right back up again, his unconscious expression startled but not broken from slumber.

The position makes his double chin stick out; a gentle wrinkle in the vaguely stubbled skin, and while it's not prominent like it used to be, something about it- maybe the naturalness of it- makes Rick smile, body going warm as he huffs a quiet laugh through his nose that sounds loud in the tired silence of the classroom.

Carefully, Rick reaches out and pinches the bridge of Negan's nose, waiting for those long few seconds of peace to pass before Negan jerks awake, lodging his desk out of place with an awkward screech.

Rick snorts out a surprised laugh that sounds like a choking screech, hiding his face in the scratched up wood of his desk.

“You ass!” Negan cries indignantly, voice gruff and deep with exhaust, cutting through the meek air of the classroom and startling students, “I was having a kick ass fucking dream!” His face is slightly gray, but all the while intrigued solely because of one reason: Rick touched him.

“About?” Rick asks, rolling his eyes to show he's unconvinced.

Negan just smirks, lazy lidded, and immediately Rick regrets asking.

“You were in it, baby.”

Rick absolutely scowls, and the blush of pink on his cheeks is not from flattery, he hopes Negan understands that.

“Do _not_ call me that. _Ever_.”

“Well in my dream-”

“Not even in your dreams!”

With that Rick twists out of Negan's direction, facing the drab wall beneath the whiteboard at the head of the room.

 _Baby_.

The word runs round and round Rick's head in that righteously smooth tone.

When Rick and Negan met they _were_ just babies. Six years old but still: just tiny babies, growing like tall stalks of sunflowers.

Baby then doesn't mean what baby means now and Rick can't quite understand what Negan's intentions are, but he thinks he has an idea.

Negan either wants a friend or a fuck- and he already knows what it's like to have Rick as a friend.

But is that really all he sees Rick as now, after everything?

Interrupting his thoughts, the loud clink of heels against hard tile echoes all around, the telltale sound of authority, and every sleepy soul in the classroom perks up as the clinks come closer and closer.

When a blonde vixen of a girl struts into the class, everyone's jaw drops, even Rick's.

“Holy shit,” Negan curses under his breath, “She's fucking gorgeous... she's gotta be insane cause she's wearing heels to school, but wow... she's _hot._ ”

One other good looking person and suddenly Negan's got his attention focused elsewhere.

Rick watches as he nearly breaks his neck, staring the girl down while she settles into Negan’s old seat in the back of the classroom.

“Jesus crap, those tits,” Negan marvels, leaning into Rick to speak his words richly to the boy, “A fuckin’ fox with a ripe fuckin’ pair of chest fruit. Bet her nipples taste like honeydew.”

Negan licks over his lips, and it seems as though he’s speaking those words to and about Rick- not about the girl- with the way he eyes him hungry and half lidded.

Either way, Rick meets his gaze with a look of utter disgust, laced with confusion.

“What?” Negan says, “Don’t act like you weren’t looking.”

“I wasn’t,” Rick says bluntly, honestly.

Negan scoffs, “What are you? Gay?”

Rick stiffens, jaw locking tightly. Some of his fire dies down, some of it reaches his cheeks, flushing his skin an awful pink.

Negan notices, face nuanced by thought and confusion.

Before either of them can say or do anything more, the bell rings, shrill and merciful.

Rick goes quickly out of his seat, gathering his things and hurrying out the door before he remembers he has to escort Negan.

But when he looks back, he sees Negan is not troubled at all, that he’s talking to the blonde girl with red lips and his eyes are gooey and lush, and hers are fierce and sure.

“Hi, I’m Andrea.”

“I’m Negan.”

She helps Negan up and Rick runs off before he can be seen waiting and watching.

A sense of dread fills him when he remembers he has his next class with Negan as well, and as he’s walking to the technology building, he wracks his brain for any excuse he could possibly have to leave that class.

The second he’s in the door, he finds one: Yearbook.

He manages to convince his teacher that he actually has a reason to go to the Arts building, and then he’s out of the door before the tardy bell can even ring.

Yearbook isn’t even available for second period, so when he gets to the classroom, the only person in there is the head of the club: his classmate, and Senior class president, Michonne, sat in front of a Mac desktop, sorting through an array of yearbook photos, weeding out such and such for this page and that page.

“Rick!” she nearly cries when she spots him in the doorway, acting as though Rick is the light of her relief, “Thank God you came! I need you to do me a favor.” She doesn’t even question his unreasonable presence.

Rick shrugs, “Okay.” Anything to free his mind of its own thoughts.

“Can you go over to the tech building and go take pictures of Mr. Horvath’s class while they work?”

Rick purses his lips because of course; Of course after he leaves that class he’s told to go right back. What a wonderful damn world.

He sighs internally, but agrees to it nonetheless, saying, “Yeah, it’s no problem,” and checking out a Canon before he leaves the room.

What he doesn’t tell Michonne is that he’s actually not going back to the technology building- at least not during this period. Instead, he does some wandering around.

He goes to his locker to leave his stuff, he walks between buildings so he can take senseless pictures of scenery and uses the zoom on the camera to see into classrooms on the higher floors of the school’s buildings, walking all the way across campus to get to his favorite vending machine so he can buy a bag of kinda shitty baked hot cheetos.

He’s back in the science building when he spots Glenn and Maggie, loitering in a corner of the hall, talking to each other lightly. Their skin is full of light and glow as they conversate, as are their eyes, and their heads nod and tilt as they speak.

It makes Rick smile.

“Glenn! Maggie!” He calls, and the two look up at him, slightly startled from having their bubble broken, “Say cheese!” he says, holding the camera up to his eyes.

“Cheddar,” Glenn says dumbly, just as Maggie says cheese, squinting hard as the flash blinds the both of them.

When the photo is taken, Rick looks over it, stifling a laugh.

“Hey, let me see it!” Maggie says, coming to Rick’s side, Glenn following suit.

She sees their half blinking eyes and their flash induced grimaces and smiles, letting out a single hoot of a delighted laugh.

“Take some more,” she says, still smiling as she fixes her hair, pulling Glenn into her side.

Glenn flushes a charming pink, utterly surprised, but puts an arm around her waist and takes off his hat, running a hand through his hair to revive it from its matted state.

They smile sweetly as Rick takes the photo, and Rick thinks they look great together- so great in fact, he can’t help the bit of jealousy that strikes within him. It’s a quiet jealousy, sad all in all.

When Maggie sees the photo she looks positively smitten, cooing out an “Aww!” and then saying, “Okay, one more.”

Then the two get in a different pose, and once she sees that photo she continues saying, “Just one more.”

And she says it again (“Last one, I swear.”) after the third and the fourth and the fifth, their poses getting sillier and cutesier, up until the point where Rick feels like he’s taking their engagement photos or something, and he has to call it quits with a “Maggie, you’re gonna make me fill the memory card up with just you two.”

“Alright, fine,” she says indignantly, “but you better e-mail all of those pictures to me.”

She bids goodbye to the two boys, offering a wave of her slender hand and a smile that turns sweeter when it lands on Glenn.

Glenn lingers by Rick even when the girl is gone.

“I owe you one, dude,” he says, placing a hand on Rick’s shoulder, “Boy, do I owe you one.”

Rick smiles, returning the gesture, “That one was all you, Glenn.”

“It was, wasn’t it?” Glenn hmphs, and then he’s placing his baseball cap back on his head and walking towards the class he’s supposed to be in, “See you at the book club meeting!”

Rick nods, “See ya.”

Then his wandering is quiet again, and he exits that wing of the building, making his way to the stairs.

Once he’s at the top of the flight, he leans up against the balcony, camera around his neck, perched within his hands. He watches students come and go- some in groups and others alone. Most of them are probably going to the restroom, or to the counselors, or to another building- others, maybe somewhere more unorthodox, more exciting.

Either way, they’re all trying to find escape from the unruly everyday daze of high school and of their own teenage thoughts.

He hasn’t been people watching for even five minutes when he hears loud, coupled laughter, and it takes a few seconds to spot the two sources heading towards a janitor’s closet- one of which who just so happens to be on crutches, wearing tiny basketball shorts and a cast on his leg.

The other is the beautiful blonde girl with red lips, Andrea.

Rick uses the zoom on his camera to get a better look, sees the two looking mischievous and flirty, gazing at each other with gloss in their eyes. They kiss deep and long and heavy, like they’re in love, though Rick doubts that’s even possible seeing as they just met not even an hour ago.

Then Andrea opens the closet door for Negan and the boy crutches inside, the girl following right after.

Rick lets go of his camera, letting it hang loose down on his neck, sighing.

Must be nice _,_ Rick thinks.

From Glenn and Maggie to Negan and Andrea.

From puppy love to hormone fueled lust.

Rick wishes he had one of those things going on in his life- maybe a combination of the two.

He’s not ugly. He could probably find someone who thinks that, too.

Someone to make out with and blow him in janitor’s closets, someone who wants to take ridiculous pictures with him for the school yearbook; maybe even someone to go all the way with.

Rick’s not out yet, but he knows some boys in this school who aren’t either. He knows some who are, too.

Just the thought of being kissed again has him flushing that awful pink.

He hasn’t been kissed in a long damn time.

Not since Shane.

Not since Negan.

-

Rick manages to skip out on all his classes and roam the halls with a camera around his neck for almost the entire school day.

He’s always wondered how people managed to do such things everyday and get away with it, and he's found his answer today: their school sucks. Also luck.

He passed by the principal like five times, walked from building to building and loitered from hall to hall for nearly seven hours, and all he'd get were dismissive waves and empty calls of “get back to class.”

Rick tries not to feel bad about leaving Negan to walk through the halls all by his lonesome, but he figures the boy must've found someone to annoy that wasn't him.

Maybe Lucille- poor Lucille. She must be a saint, Rick thinks, the way she puts up with Negan.

Near the end of the day, the announcement bell dings and the voice of his track coach sounds, announcing that practice will take place during last period and to excuse all track members of any absences.

Rick, never having heard sweeter words, hurries to his locker, and grabs his change of clothes before he runs off to the track, doing his absolute best to avoid Negan- who he knows takes this route on the way to his last class.

Rick doubts Negan is even still thinking about their exchange of words during first period, but Rick still is, and he feels it crawl like worms beneath his skin.

If he thinks too much about it, he thinks maybe Negan not thinking about it is even worse than if he were.

But he shoves those thoughts away.

Of course Negan isn't thinking about it- he hasn't thought about Rick in years, probably.

That makes Rick feel worse, but when he gets to track practice, he doesn't have to think or worry about anything but the burning in his chest as he takes in his breaths and the stride of his legs as he bounds about the squishy red gravel of the track.

When both school and practice are over and all the students are clearing the building, getting into their rinky dink cars and boarding long buses and getting picked up by their parents, Rick jogs over to the field house.

His skin is damp with sweat, warm with exertion and his mind is clear and breezy- until he suddenly remembers it's Thursday and he has a book club meeting today.

He forgets his shower, and instead jets right out of the field house, ignoring his coaches calls about hygiene and making his way back towards the main building of the school, where the library is.

Once his hand hits the library door, he stops, hanging his head and letting his lungs collect the breath they truly deserve. He wipes his face free of sweat and enters, making his way to the rec room behind the librarian's office.

“Sorry I'm late, I was at-”

Rick stops dead in his tracks, right in the middle of the room.

None of the usual members are in the reading circle composed of curved couches; there are no members in sight, all in all.

Just Negan, sitting at the front of the circle, where Rick usually sits.

The teen is smirking up at him, leaning back into his cushioned seat, arms behind his head.

Rick feels his face scrunched up with confusion as he looks back from where he entered, then towards Negan, then back again.

Is he in the wrong fucking room?

“You're not late, Blue,” Negan supplies, looking utterly smug, “In fact, you're pretty fuckin’ early. About ten minutes or so.”

Negan rakes his eyes over Rick form, giving him a long once over.

“You run straight here from track practice? _God,_ you're a hunk.”

Rick swallows, suddenly becoming all too aware of the air that meets his thighs, and the stringiness of his damp curls sticking to his temples.

Again he flushes that awful pink, but it blends in with all the other pinks that his running has stained his skin.

“Why are you in here?” Rick deflects, “This room is for book club members only. Where's Lucille?”

“She's in the can, told me to hold down the fuckin’ fort for her,” Negan says, adding, “And for your information, Ricky, I am a fucking member of this book club.”

Rick scoffs, but there's a shade of fear in his eyes, “Since when?”

“Today's my first meeting,” he informs, “and I am _not_ content with your stone cold as fuck welcome. Expected more from you, Blue, I gotta say.”

Rick sighs.

 _I expected more from you, too,_ he wants to say, just in general, but instead he takes a seat beside Negan, leaving a large gap of space between them.

-

Negan receives nothing but awkward looks and tense coughs from all the other members of Lucille’s book club as they all begin to pile in.

He hardly knows anyone in this book club, just Rick and Lucille and that Asian kid he tripped- Gwen- who's cowering beside Rick like a chihuahua with the shakes.

Some people are whispering, hiding their stares, others look indignant.

“Alright,” Lucille says, cutting through the tension, shaking a hat full of strips of paper, “Time to pick the book, kid-o’s and kid-a’s.”

“ _This_ is how you pick your books?” Negan asks incredulously, a bit condescending.

Lucille ignores him and extends the hat out towards Rick, “Would you do us the honor, Rick?”

“Why not me, I'm right next to you-”

Rick cuts him off this time, saying, “Yeah, sure,” as he reaches a hand in.

He digs in there, ruffling around, picking one before he punks out and picks another one, making some girl with thick brown hair and hoop earrings yell out a playful, anticipating, “Pick one already!”

“Alright, alright!” Rick chuckles and he unfolds the strip, examining the tiny black text that it holds before he lets out an elated gasp, flailing just a little bit with excitement as he gushes, “ _House on Mango Street!_ ”

All the other members light up with the same expression, whooping slightly, some letting out calls of _fuck yes!_ here and there, others high fiving.

Negan feels a little more than left out as he watches everyone chatter with joy about the selected book.

Must be an inside thing, he figures.

“Didn't we all read that in like the third grade?” Negan scoffs, crossing his arms against his chest as he speaks, his words laced with bitterness, “Kinda lame if you ask me.”

Everyone goes quiet and Lucille glares daggers into the side of his face.

“Okay,” the girl begins, speaking sharply, “Anyone in favor of a re-pick for this weeks book, raise your hand.”

No one raises their hand, not even the boy with the broken leg.

Lucille huffs at Negan, “That's what I thought,” then she gets up from her seat, “I'll go get the books now,” she looks over at Negan, “Anyone wanna help me?”

When Negan remains oblivious to her obvious stare, she says, “Negan, get up!”

Negan sucks his teeth indignantly, biting out a “Fine!” and grabbing his crutches.

Rick tries to give him a hand, but instead receives a sour “I can do it my fucking self!”

When they're in storage, Negan realizes he can’t do it by himself. _It_ being carrying the books.

“Of all fucks, why'd you choose the fuck with a broken leg to help you carry books? I'm too fucking busy carrying my own damn body with my fucking arms.”

“I can handle carrying a dozen books, you thick headed bitch. I chose you because I need to fucking talk to you.”

“About what?”

“The fuck do you mean _about what_??” She spits, “Why the hell are you being a goddamn party pooper about the book choice? Everyone's obviously fucking excited about it- we've all wanted that book for weeks.”

“Sorry I’m not getting excited over a fucking book with a fourth grade reading level.”

Lucille gathers the books, sarcastically saying, “Well, that's a start,” before she heads back to the rec room, Negan following behind her.

They settle back in their seats, and Lucille is going on about how they're supposed to read as much of their book over Thanksgiving holiday while Negan blocks her out.

In his peripheral, he sees someone stealing glances at him, and when he turns, he meets the eyes of Gwen.

Gwen quickly reverts his gaze, looking down at the book in his hands, trying to nonchalantly look through its pages, but utterly failing.

Negan returns the favor, staring indulgently and unapologetically at the boy adjacent to him.

The more he stares, the more something clicks until finally he says, bold and loud, interrupting whatever Lucille had been saying,

“Hey… I know you.”

Gwen looks up, face startled, eyes weary.

Negan feeds on that look, thrives on it.

“I mean, apart from the other day where you took that _wicked_ fucking tumble,” Negan smirks, tongue between teeth, “You're the kid who's always leeching off that super hot babe Maggie, aren't ya?”

There's a thick silence, before a puny voice responds, “Don't talk about her like that.”

Negan laughs, “What? All I said was that she was a super hot babe- and trust me, I _know_ about super hot babes and _she_ is a prime fucking example in _alll_ senses of the word, if you know what I mean.”

Negan licks at his lips and a vein begins to pop out of Gwen’s head, his jaw clenching tight.

“Negan,” Lucille hisses, “shut your _damn_ hole.”

Negan looks innocently over at the girl, “I'm just telling Gwen here a thing or two about his little girlfriend-”

“Do you have a fucking speech impediment or something? His name is _Glenn_ ,” a rough redhead with some gnarly facial hair speaks up.

“And that's my sister you're talking about, dickhead!” A girl pipes up.

Negan ignores it all, continues, smugly, “I'm sure he'd love to know how to treat her pussy right when it comes down to it- _if_ it comes down to it-”

“That's _enough!”_ Lucille yells, getting up and yanking Negan's arm, urging him to get up.

Negan gets up slowly (Rick doesn't bother helping him this time), watching as Glenn's face trembles redder and redder by the second, eyes looking pink when the white mixes with all the vessels that appear.

“Aw, don't be mad, Glenn. I'm just trying to help you the fuck out, give you a couple fucking pointers.”

Glenn gets to his feet, moving in closer on Negan, looking up at the tall, broken teen, “Go fuck yourself,” he says, calm, but only barely.

There's a small silence where Negan's face runs straight and placid, but then in the blink of an eye there's a smile of ill humor painted on his lips.

“That’s the thing, Glenny, _I_ don’t need to fuck myself, I can just go ask Ma-”

Before he can finish that sentence, a fist connects with his nose, unleashing a warm stream of blood, and Negan is sent back into his seat.

“Negan!” Lucille cries, going to his aid, only to get pushed away, “Oh my God, Glenn, I think you broke his nose.”

“Serves the bitch right,” Comes the redheads input.

Negan clutches his nose for only a second more before he lets go, letting his stream run free as he grabs his crutches and gets back on his feet, facing Glenn once more.

The boy still looks a little fearful, but he does not break Negan's gaze.

After a moment, Negan grins, and blood trickles down the corners of his mouth, teasing at his teeth.

Then he leans in, planting a bloody kiss on the boy's cheek, relishing in the surprised grimace on Glenn's face when he pulls away.

“That's what I'm talkin’ about, Glenny,” he says, patting the boy's shoulder before he crutches out of the rec room and the library altogether, leaving an uproar behind him- Rick being the only quiet one.

-

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” Lucille yells at the boy waiting by her car, “You ruined everything!”

“Calm down, Lucy-”

“No! You fucking good for nothing, attention slut of a goddamn lummox! Don't tell me to calm down!” She sighs deeply, leaning defeated against her car as she whimpers, “You ruined _everything._ ”

Negan knows that sound, and he looks up, studying her face.

A train of guilt strikes his gut when he sees her cheeks glistening with tears.

“Aw shit, Lucy,” he says, voice softer as he tries to move in closer to the girl, “Lucy, I’m- please don't cry.”

She shoves him away, “Fuck you, Negan. Everyone's pissed at me now for letting you in. I'll be lucky if anyone will even want to stay after what you did.” She wipes her tears, “God dammit, why couldn't you just listen to me?? Why couldn't you just _not_ be an ass for once?? You join my book club to try and bang Rick and now he doesn't even wanna be there anymore- no one does. It's my senior fucking year, for fuck’s sake! I just wanted things to be good.”

Negan raises an eyebrow, “Rick doesn't want to be in your book club anymore?”

“I just told you: no he doesn't! No one does, not if you're gonna be a fucking dick.”

Negan sighs, “What if… What if I apologize?”

“Ha! Fat fucking chance.”

“I'm serious!” Negan says, “I'm saying I fucking will, and believe it or not Lucy, I'm a man of my fucking word.”

She sniffles some more, pensive.

“Are you actually sorry?”

“... Yeah. I mean… yeah.”

“They can tell if you're not, you know.”

“Well, I _am_.”

“Okay,” she smiles, suddenly chipper, “They're in the rec room. Told ‘em you'd come back and apologize.”

Negan huffs a laugh, “You were so goddamn sure of yourself, weren’t ya? … Are those even real tears?”

She smirks, shrugging, “Real enough.”

-

After Rick left, when he had to start defending himself from all of the relentless and pestering kids in his class all on his own, Negan vowed to himself to never apologize when he didn't need to.

No more saying sorry to bullies when he was the one who ought to be apologized to, no more apologizing for being himself, for speaking his mind, or for wanting to be heard.

The thing is, over the years, Negan started having a hard time discerning when he did and when he didn't need to say those two golden words.

 _I’m sorry_.

And then he started having a hard time meaning it, too.

He started thinking too much on it; _Was_ he really sorry?

 _Sorry_.

What did that word even mean? It sounded like sorrow, like you were feeling as though you were full of sorrow.

Sorry to Negan felt a lot like guilt. He thinks for most people it does, too.

Sitting beside Rick and Lucille, and at the head of the reading circle, he felt weak as he uttered those two words. He felt reduced to that little schoolboy with sandbox dust kicked on his face, and hard feet kicked to his ribs; alone, friendless.

Everybody should have a friend, Negan thinks, especially a little kid.

“I'm sorry… I guess,” he began.

His words were met with silence.

“Go on,” Lucille insisted.

Rick sat quietly at Negan's side, feeling odd.

“I'm sorry that I… made fun of the book that got chosen. To be honest, that books not all that bad. I'd give that book a four out of five... Do you guys remember how it ended? When she wrote about her-”

Just then a chorus of _No, no, no!s_ and urgent shushing erupts and Lucille slaps a hand over his mouth.

“Shit, my bad,” Negan says, “Anyways, yeah it's a pretty good book. And Glenn.. I'm sorry I made you punch me. You got a pretty mean right hook though, which is kinda hot. Oh, and I'm sorry I fucked Maggie. She likes you though, you can tell, so I think you’re in the clear.”

Glenn blinks, brows furrowed in slight distaste, “...Thanks? You're … forgiven?”

With that, Lucille tosses him a book with a familiar paperback cover.

She says some more things Negan actually listens to this time around, and then the meeting is dismissed.

Everyone gets up out of their seats and scurries out the building, but Rick takes quite a while.

When Negan gets a look at him, he sees he's looking down at his book- Rick’s mop of greasy, sweaty curls the only part of the boy to be seen.

“You coming?” Negan asks, tapping the boys beat up running shoe with the toe of his crutch.

“Yeah.”

“Well you better hurry. Don't wanna get kicked the fuck out of this place.”

Rick fiddles with the corner of the book cover, making the sharp edge dull with his fingers. “Gimme a second.”

Negan, who can’t understand that the boy wants to be alone, asks, “Do you need a ride home?”

“No.”

“You have your own car?”

“No.”

“You already have a ride?”

“No.”

“So what? You walk, then?”

Rick nods.

“So come with me and Lucille. She can give you a ride,” when Rick is quiet some more, Negan adds, “Or she can drop us off at Creme Cup, and I can buy you some ice cream?” He waggles an eyebrow though Rick isn't looking, “My treat.”

Rick shakes his head, “When are you gonna quit with that? You come in here and you cause a raucous and you're still trying to get me to go on a date with you?”

“Doesn't have to be a date.”

Rick gives him a disbelieving look, heavy with attitude, “Really?”

Negan shrugs, “Not if you don't want it to be.”

“I don't even want it to _be_ , period,” he says, and then he's getting up from his seat, “And I like walking home.”

Negan watches as Rick makes his way out of the rec room, watches his ass sway in those shorts.

“Suit yourself.”

He continues watching Rick as he exits the library, as he rounds the hall.

He’s in an absolute trance until Lucille snaps him out of it, yelling, “Negan, hurry the _fuck_ up!” as she jingles her keys impatiently.

Negan flinches, rolling his eyes when his startle fades into irritation, “I’m fucking going! … Jesus Christ.”

When they're driving down the highway back home, engine humming as the sun is just beginning to set down into the horizon, Lucille says, “Your little plan of Creme Cup and chill ain't working too well for you this time around, huh?”

Negan huffs.

“Just you wait and see.”

Lucille sighs as she shakes her head, her teasing running thin, “I don't like what you're trying to do, Negan.”

“And what am I trying to do?”

“You're trying to mess with Rick.”

“I'm not trying to _mess_ with him, I'm trying to fuck him,” Negan corrects, “I'm not trying to listen to his worst fears and write him love poems and hold him while he cries just to get a lay. The dudes got a nice ass, and I've got a dick that I'd like to keep nice and fucking wet. That's it.”

Lucille swallows, “I hope he knows that.

“He will eventually,” Negan says.

 _Yeah,_ Lucille thinks, _He will eventually._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you all for reading! I hope you enjoyed and as always, feedback and constructive criticism are more than welcome! :) <333


	4. Pale Pink

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> of course i made a playlist for this fic. of course i did. what kind of a question even is that? i mentioned over 100 songs in milk n honey, of course i pulled 100 more (ok like 10) out of my ass for this fic.  
> the link will be in the story, accordingly. warning tho cuz it doesnt open in another window if ur on desktop so thats annoying.  
> also, follow me on [tumblr](https://hourgla.tumblr.com) if u want
> 
> AND, WARNING: use of homophobic slurs.

It's the seventeenth of November, the Friday before school lets out for Thanksgiving.

It's also Rick's birthday, but no one knows that- and if they do, well, they don't seem to remember.

He wakes up, freshly eighteen, to a pillow thrown harshly at his face, ripping him from a dreamless but peaceful sleep.

“Wake up, _faggot_ ,” his cousin Louie snides, voice thick and cold from the morning and from his naturally malevolent disposition, “Time for you to go to school, pretty boy.”

Yeah, Rick didn't expect Louie to be the first to remember- or to even remember at all. It probably wouldn't have been nice if he had, anyways.

Rick doesn't bother meeting Louie's eyes or his mocking sneer, just gets up out of bed hurriedly, rushing to heed nature's call and brush his teeth and throw on some clothes that don't hint at his sexuality so he can just get to school already, not even bothering to grab anything to eat in the midst of his hurries.

“Rick?” His aunt calls, just as he's about to exit the front door of her apartment.

 _She_ remembers, Rick thinks, of course of all people, _she_ should. She's his aunt, his caretaker, his legal guardian. She's gonna tell him happy birthday, and then Rick will get to school and he’ll get told happy birthday over there, too, from Negan and Glenn and Maggie and Michonne and everyone-

“Next time don't turn the damn heat up whenever you damn well please,” she scolds, “Maybe once you start payin’ my bills then you can live a couple degrees warmer.”

Rick deflates a bit, hand tightening around the doorknob, “Sorry,” he says lowly, and then he's out the door.

 _It's okay,_ he tells himself, _just because they didn't remember doesn't mean no one else will_.

That alone puts a little more pep in his step, and silently he wishes he'd have put more thought into his appearance for his special day.

After all, you never know what great things can happen on your birthday.

-

The first bell rings and all the students start scurrying off to their first class of the day, trailing the voice of their shenanigans all around them as they go.

Rick retrieves the elevator pass from the main office then goes to find Negan, who's waiting by the elevator with an impatient posture, head hanging off to the side as he leans awkwardly against the metal doors, crutches firm underneath his arms.

He's still wearing those basketball shorts though it's all of fifty degrees outside- below freezing in south Texas standards- and his white t-shirt is snagged by his crutch, riding up over his hip.

Rick's not looking there, though. He's looking at Negan's face- his nose to be exact, because it's bandaged and gauzed, and there's slight bruises beneath Negan's eyes.

“Guess Lucille was right, huh?” Rick muses, and Negan's head perks up.

“She usually is,” Negan says groggily, and then, “but about what?”

Rick rolls his eyes, points at his face, “Your nose, idiot.”

“Oh yeah,” Negan says, breathing heavy and slow, eyes nearly fluttering shut because his eyelids feel so heavy, “Shit’s as broken as my fucking leg… which isn't all that broken by the way. Doctor says I'm healing up fast. Faster than normal. Might be able to be back on the court sooner than I thought.”

He's rambling a little, like he would when they'd have sleepovers as kids; when they would try to stay up super late, fighting the call of their own fatigue.

Negan would always give in first.

Rick was used to sleepless nights at his own house, so he always won.

“Man, I'm fucking tired,” Negan continues as they board the elevator, “Didn't get any good fucking sleep last night because of my stupid fucking nose. Do you know hard it is to sleep on your fucking back, soldier style? That shit triggers sleep paralysis, and that's all I could fucking think about last night while I was trying to nod off. And they say the more you think about sleep paralysis the more likely you are to have it, so I was fucking terrified… Me, I’m a stomach sleeper: I sleep on my stomach, and I have ever since I was just a baby.”

 _I_ _know,_ Rick thinks, but he doesn't say it.

That would just be too embarrassing.

When Rick is quiet for too long, Negan looks over at him, and he stares for quite some time.

“Something about ya,” He begins, slow and studious, “Something about your face looks different…”

 _He's remembers,_ Rick thinks, _of course_ _he does_.

Of all people, Negan should.

All those birthday parties that always happened at his house and not Rick's, just them two and Negan's parents because they never had any friends outside of each other.

Birthday parties that turned into birthday sleepovers that turned into _You should just sleep over for another day!_

Negan _has_ to remember.

“It's your hair!” Negan says, looking so full of pride, like he’s hit the nail right on the head, and again Rick deflates, “You did something different, didn't you? Looks more tousled, like you just rolled on out of bed… I like it; like my boys a little rugged.”

Rick swallows, “Is that it? That's the only thing?”

The elevator doors open and the two of them get out.

What Rick gets is another once over in return, though this one's not as lascivious as it could be.

Negan hmphs, “Yeah, I think so.”

Rick gives a small huff.

“You don't know what day it is today?”

“Friday, duh. Last day in this shit hole and then we don't have to come back for a whole fucking week.”

“Is that all today is? Just Friday?” Rick continues.

“Well, what the fuck else could it be? If you wanna get real technical it's the day after Thursday and before Saturday. The second Friday before Thanksgiving. One week until Black Friday. Jesus, Blue, what are you trying to get at?”

Rick looks up into Negan's eyes, sees the cluelessness and the slight irritation that resides there, and he knows Negan isn't just being difficult or even teasing, he just genuinely doesn't know.

“Nothin,” Rick says plainly, “Guess I was just tryin’ to mess with you.”

Then Negan smirks, “Well aren't you just the cutest, Blue? Really had my gears grinding for a second.”

Rick's mouth twitches into a small, forced smile, but as soon as Negan looks away it falls flat.

-

Not once does Rick hear the words Happy Birthday directed towards him throughout the day.

Not from Maggie, or Glenn, or Michonne, or Negan, or anyone of his friends or small acquaintances.

He finds they can't exactly be blamed, however, since he hadn't divulged even that small tidbit of information about himself to them.

So what's Negan's excuse? Rick's known Negan for years, been his best friend for years. Shouldn't it just click?

The thought assaults him all day, until he’s at his locker after eighth period, grabbing his change of clothes for track practice.

Really he doesn't have a legitimate practice to go to, meaning none of his other teammates or his coach will be there at the track, but Rick just wants to run and he _really_ doesn't want to go home to his aunt and Louie and their hideous energy.

Rick feels a presence approaching him as he's putting away his books, and he half suspects it to be Negan until he realizes there's no sound of crutches against tile to be heard.

“Hey, Rick,” a voice says, and Rick startles when he recognizes it's owner as Lucille.

He shuts his locker, revealing the girl's made up face, looking weary and nervous.

“Hi, Lucille,” he says back, “What's up?”

For a second his hopes get high, but then he grounds himself, thinking how the hell would she know it's his birthday anyways?

She looks at his face, then down at his athletic bag in his hands, then back up at his face.

“Am I keeping you from somewhere?”

“No, I- uh, no. You're not.”

She nods, sighing deeply before she leans against the locker, arms crossed over her chest, saying, “I need to talk to you about Negan.”

Rick's brows furrow, “Negan?”

“Yeah… him.”

“What about him?”

Lucille looks around like she fears Negan will pop up in true speak of the devil fashion.

And Rick's surprised he hasn't yet, honestly. He's gotten used to Negan pestering him at his locker everyday after school this past week and a half. Yeah, it's annoying but it's better than no one being there at all.

“He's trying to fuck you,” she finally says, “He's just trying to get in your pants and then that's it… you know, like hit it and quit it… hump then dump… sex then ex.”

Rick's quiet for a moment, and then he says, “I know.”

Lucille’s brows scrunch together, “What?”

“I know,” Rick repeats, “I thought it was pretty obvious. He's always askin’ me to go to Creme Cup with him and lookin’ at my ass like I can't feel his eyes on me. But then he's still messin’ around with other people, so I just figured he only wants sex.”

Lucille just blinks, baffled that Rick managed to read Negan so well.

“I'm not stupid,” Rick continues, “I've seen all those teen movies from the nineties.”

“I wasn't saying you were,” Lucille defends quickly, “I just… I didn't want you to think I was in on it the whole time.”

“I get it,” Rick says, honestly, “I appreciate it, but.. you don't have to worry about me. I know how to handle myself around Negan. That charm or whatever he likes to call it doesn't exactly work on me.”

Lucille raises a brow, amused, “You've only known him for the past couple weeks and you already know about the charm?”

Rick laughs incredulously, “Past few weeks? I've known him since I was six years old.”

Lucille’s jaw drops, godsmacked.

“ _What?_ ”

“He never mentioned anything about me to you?”

Rick hopes he doesn't sound as wounded as he feels.

“He never mentions _anything_ about his life before I met him. It's like he was birthed by thin air and as soon as he came out he was fifteen years old. I've never heard peep shit about junior high or middle school or elementary.”

Rick absorbs that information, and at the end of the process, all he can think is how could Lucille, someone so kind and honest,  want to be friends with _this_ Negan?

“How the hell do you even put up with him?” Rick asks, “I was his friend for so long back then, but I can hardly stand him now.”

Lucille just sighs, shaking her head, radiating an air that tells Rick she asks herself that question everyday.

“He has his moments,” is all the girl says.

Rick gives a quick tilt of the head, as if he's considering her words.

Their conversation fades and Lucille studies Rick's face for a second, deep in thought while Rick waits patient and puzzled for her to say whatever is on her mind.

“There was something I saw your name on. I told myself I had to remember and mention it to you later, but I forgot what it- _oh yeah!_ The birthday list! It's your birthday today isn't it?”

Rick's eyes go alight, his whole body perking up as well, “Yeah. Yeah, it is,” he says with a sheepish smile, “Thanks for remembering.”

“No problem,” she says, and she catches Rick off guard by pulling him into a hug, “Happy birthday, Rick.”

He's stiff inside her arms only for a second before he lets himself enjoy it; Lucille feels warm and soft and her hair smells like vanilla.

It's comforting to say the least, and something about her makes Rick want to vent, makes him feel safe enough to do so.

“You're the first person to say that to me all day,” he says when they pull away, “Thank you. I was having a really… not so great kind of day.”

She gives him a sad, sorry shrug of a smile, “That might be my bad,” she says, “I was gonna read off the birthday list during the announcements, but the Principal cut me off because she said the bell was gonna ring in a few seconds. Might've gotten you a couple more happy birthdays if I had.”

“Don't worry about it,” Rick shrugs, giving somewhat of a smirk as he says, “No one listens to the announcements anyways.”

Lucille snorts a surprised laugh, says a singular, “Rude,” before her laughter comes to a halt and she realizes, “Wait, Negan didn't tell you happy birthday??”

Rick shakes his head, smile dwindling just a little, “No. I think he forgot.”

“What a fucking dick,” she says under her breath, and Rick just shrugs.

Just then- in true speak of the devil fashion- the sound of crutches clicking and scrunching against the tile come to their ears, as well as a bold and obnoxious voice smugly saying,“Well if it ain't the belle of the ball and the belle of _my_ balls,” as he approaches Lucille and Rick.

“What are you two talking about, huh?” He asks as he stops beside Rick, looking over at the boy who keeps his eyes on Lucille’s haughty face.

“Oh, we were just talking about how hot and sexy you are and how much we want you to take us completely at the same time-” Lucille chimes sarcastically, rolling her eyes when Negan's face actually lights up with excitement, “none of your business, assface, that's what we’re talking about.”

“Damn, message fucking received,” Negan says, before he unminds Lucille and turns to look at Rick, who hesitates to look back at him.

“So Rick,” he begins, with a smirk and a lick of the lips, “What are you doing this weekend?”

Rick's eyes flit from Lucille then back to Negan.

“Probably track practice,” Rick answers easily, nearly terse.

“Track practice?” Negan scoffs, in that selfish way that he usually does, the way that says _that's lame, I'm cool, stop being lame and be cool with me,_ “On the weekends?”

“I practice on my own,” Rick says.

Negan shrugs that off.

“What are you doing right now after school?” He asks, unrelenting.

Lucille sighs.

Rick does, too.

“Practicing,” he answers as he begins to walk away, heading towards the exit of the building and leaving Negan and Lucille behind.

“Bye, Rick,” Lucille calls.

“Bye, Lucille,” Rick calls back, and then he's gone, opening the door and letting in sunlight, then closing the door and shutting sunlight out.

That leaves Negan and Lucille standing alone, silent after the boy’s exit.

“So what _were_ you two talking about?” Negan asks, voice low and passively demanding, watching the small and ever shrinking figure of Rick shrink and shrink some more through the window of the door as Rick makes his way towards the track.

“I warned him about you,” Lucille says without hesitation, “About how you’re just trying to lay him and that's it.”

Negan's not surprised. Lucille's ever the justice seeker, all kind hearted and tender with a mix of venom for whoever asks for it, whoever she decides needs it. A vigilante of the high school scene.

“What did he say?”

Lucille smiles, small but honest, “He said he knew it- and not in the kind of way where he just figured, but like it was a fact. Like it was well known.”

Negan hmphs.

“Should be easier then. He knows what I want: casual and breezy.”

Lucille side eyes him, shakes her head at how insufferable the boy is.

“It's his birthday today,” Lucille says, meeting his eyes sharply, watching as something floods within those hazel eyes of his, “Did you know that? Or did you forget?”

Negan doesn't answer, figures it's obvious enough, and instead hangs his head against the dark red of the metal lockers, banging his skull against them as he spits out a string of _fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck!_

A few bangs more and he straightens up his posture, looking up at Lucille and urgently saying, “I need you to drive me home, like _now_ ,” and he's crutching towards the exit that leads to the student parking lot.

Lucille's brows pulse a scrunch of confusion, but she follows Negan's rapid swings.

“Do you know what time Rick gets done with his practice?”

“No?” she answers, opening the door for Negan, “but the school’s practice is about an hour long. I don't how long he practice on his own.”

“An hour- okay, I can work with that,” he says, tapping the door of Lucille's car rapidly, impatiently, and signaling for the girl to open it for him.

She does and when she's in the driver's seat, anxiously starting up the car, she says, “ _Work with that?_ What the hell are you even working _for?_ ”

“I'm gonna need about a fucking hour to convince my parents to let me drive with a broken leg- and drive the horse, no less.”

“ _The horse??_ Negan, what the fuck are you even talking about?”

“I'll explain later,” Negan says impatiently, tapping his palm against the dashboard, “Just put the pedal to the fucking metal, Lucy, I need all the goddamn time I can get!”

-

“Mom, Dad, can I drive the-”

“ _Drive?”_ His mom says, huffing a laugh, “ _Estas_ _loco_.”

“C’mon, please? Can I _please_ drive the horse?”

“Ha! Not a chance in hell, not with that leg.”

Negan frowns, “Dad?”

“ _Escucha a tu madre, por favor_ ,” he says, “She means well.”

“I just need it for one night!” Negan says, “Just one night, please!”

“Negan,” his Dad sighs, “I don’t know if you noticed but you have a broken leg… Therefore, we don’t feel comfortable with you driving.”

“But it's my left leg!” Negan reasons, “I don’t need my left leg to drive- its not like I’m driving shift- and besides, it’s just for one night!”

“One night _ni que nada, cabron._ What do you need the car for? I’ll take you wherever you need to go if Lucille can’t,” His mom says, “You’re _not_ driving with a broken leg.”

Negan sighs, but confesses, “It’s for Rick, its his-”

“ _Rick?”_

Negan’s Mom’s face light up, her stern look fading. Even his Dad turns around, giving his son an incredulous look.

They look utterly pleased- excited, even- and Negan thinks, holy shit, he should’ve just said it was about Rick in the first place.

“Yeah, it’s his birthday today and I forgot, and I need to pick him up from track practice and make up for it. So can I _please_ just borrow the horse for _one_ night?”

His parents share a look, a wordless debate with nods of the head and shrugs of the lips and raising of the eyebrows.

Then they each sigh.

“Fine,” his Mom says finally, and Negan grunts out a _yes_ just as she begins to say, “ _But_ … just for tonight.”

“And you have to be home by nine,” Negan’s Dad tacks on.

Negan sucks his teeth indignantly, “Nine?” He whines.

“Take it or leave it,” his mother says.

There’s no way Negan’s leaving this offer- no way in fat fucking hell.

“Okay, nine,” he nods, and then to his dad he asks, “Where are the keys?”

-

The horse rides like a fucking dream. And since it didn’t take him a whole fucking hour to convince his parents to let him drive- though he had expected it to- Negan has some time to kill.

He makes a stop at a gas station and buys a few things: some condoms, some lube, mints- in case anything happens tonight. He doubts anything will, or that Rick will want to. It's not even his main intention, but hey, you never know.

When he's back in the car, he texts Lucille.

_Send me ur most badass fucking playlist rn asap_

_Geez u already forgot the kids bday. The least u can do is make ur own damn playlist_  is Lucille’s text back.

As he’s typing out a plea and a beg, she responds with a link, along with a _r u in the[red mustang?](https://open.spotify.com/user/leeyumpain/playlist/489EY5tObIlqVMSext9PMt) _

_Yea why?_

_Ride down highway 83 w the top down n put that playlist on. Maybe you’ll get laid but i hope u dont_

_Thx lucy ily_ is his final text to the girl.

He plugs his phone into the aux, turns it up high, and drops the top.

Then he’s driving towards the high school, in a ripe red 1969 convertible Mustang, one broken leg and guilty heart equipped.

-

Bounding around the track is Rick Grimes.

Wearing only a pair of Nikes running shorts and Nikes running shoes, body glistening with sweat in a soft warm light that gives him a tangerine glow, the stringy wet curls on his head raining down droplets of sweat that run run run just like the boy it comes from.

Negan watches him go around one lap,

then two,

then three,

then he forgets what laps hes on and he starts over again, until the warm glow disappears, and instead Rick is reflecting the moon.

Then he behinds to feel weird, like all the sweat from Rick's body is boiling in his belly, and he has to look away, leaning back into his car seat and up at the sky.

The first few stars are glimmering.

When he looks up at Rick again, the boy is stretching out his legs and Negan can't help but watch so intently as his muscles bend and pull beneath his skin with every new position he takes.

Then he’s finished stretching and he jogs off into the field house. When he returns, he’s wearing the clothes he had been wearing during school and his hair is towel dried and tucked behind his ears.

Before the boy can take off in his direction home, Negan honks his horn.

Rick’s head snaps towards the source of the sound, and he nearly breaks his neck doing a double take solely because _holy shit_ , its the horse, brought back from the dead. He can't believe his own two eyes.

He stands near the edge of the field, jaw slack with surprise, until his legs heed the call of his brain, and he’s running again with a grin on his face.

There’s no grace or technique like there had been while he was on the track, just pure excitement running through his vines.

 _“Oh my God!!”_ Rick yells when he sees the car up close, running his hands frantically over the waxy shine of the red paint- petting the horse. “She’s _alive??_ There’s no more cancer, no more- _Oh my God, she’s shiny!”_

Negan laughs and Rick looks up at him.

When their eyes meet his smile fades a little bit, but Negan tries not to notice that.

Then Rick’s eyes fall down to the steering wheel, to Negan in the driver’s seat, and the boys broken leg.

“You’re driving?” He asks, brows furrowed, “Your parents let you drive?”

“Look, it's my _left leg_ , alright?” Negan sighs, having gone through this argument too many times tonight, “I only need my right to drive.”

To that, Rick says nothing.

To nothing, Negan says, quietly, almost soft, “Hey. Blue… Happy Birthday.”

If there was any remnants of Rick’s smile from before, it's surely gone now.

Rick crosses his arms over his chest, looking terribly indignant as he stands outside the passenger's door.

“Yeah, yeah, I fuckin’ get it: it was a real dick move forgetting your birthday.I know this won't fully make up for it and I don’t expect you to kiss my ass back, but I’m gonna keep on kissin’ yours.” He puts the key in the ignition, starts the car up to a gentle purr that peaks Rick’s attention. “Now get in.”

Rick keeps his arms crossed, his feet planted on the ground.

“Why?” He asks tersely.

“Cuz you know ya wanna,” Negan winks, a double entendre as he nods down towards the leather seats, “Not as much dust for us to draw dicks on, but hey, at least she runs.”

He’s met with silence.

Negan sighs sharply, “Why do ya think, Rick? Jesus, I’m trying to fucking apologize. I don’t do that shit often- not like how I fucking used to… So get the fuck in."

Slowly Rick’s arms detangle, naturally his eyes roll- but he gets in, throwing his bag in the backseat.

It’s a little awkward, driving in a car with your childhood best friend who now wants to fuck you, but it's manageable.

With the top down, the cool wind is blowing Rick’s curls dry and frizzy, unhinging it from behind his ears and placing  it here and there.

When Rick looks over at Negan he sees the wind is tossing his hair about too, but he actually manages to somehow look good.

Jesus, why is it always the assholes that get to look good all the time?

Rick looks away.

There’s music playing that doesn’t sound like music Rick would think Negan to listen to. He doesn’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing, or if he’s pleasantly surprised or not.

Some songs make him wonder what exactly Negan’s intent is for the night.

“Where are we going?” Rick asks, turning down the music.

“Creme Cup.”

Rick guffaws, “I’ve told you I don’t know how many times, I _don’t_ want to go to Creme Cup with you.”

Negan sighs, “Why the fuck not? We’re just gonna eat some fucking ice cream- maybe a burger if you’re fucking hungry. It’s not a date and it's not like we’re gonna fuck at the fucking booth, for fucks sake.”

Rick narrows his eyes, “Bet you’d like that, huh? Birthday sex even though you couldn’t even remember my _fucking_ _birthday!_ ”

“Yeah, Rick, I would! I’d fucking _love_ to fuck you on your birthday! I’d fucking love to fuck you _any_ day of the fucking week, but that’s not what this is about.”

“Sure, Negan,” Rick condescends, “Is this your little tactic to get people into bed? Forget their birthdays, take them to Creme Cup, and but them three dollars worth of ice cream to get them to blow you?”

“Actually… it is… but not the birthday part. I don’t know the birthdays of the people I fuck, usually.”

“Nice to know I fit the category well.”

Negan gives Rick an insufferable look as they get into town, “Rick... c'mon.. I’m sorry. I mean it, I’m fucking sorry. I’m not doing this to get you to fuck me, okay? I’m doing this because it’s your birthday and I fucking forgot like the giant asshole I am.”

“September third,” Rick says suddenly, “September third; that’s your birthday. I never forgot, every year I remembered and I wanted to tell you I did but I was gone. Then when I came back it didn’t seem like you cared if I remembered or if I didn't.”

Negan goes silent, continues driving.

When Rick sees the Creme Cup sign lit up in the corner of his eye he says again, “I don’t want to go to Creme Cup with you.”

Negan sighs, nearly defeated, “So what? Do you wanna go home, or…?”

Rick thinks about home.

“No,” he answers, then repeats, “I don’t want to go to Creme Cup with you.”

Negan sighs again, and his breath has the audacity to sound angry.

They pull up to the parking lot of the burger joint.

“I said I _don’t!_ ”

“I’m _not_ trying to fuck you!” Negan yells, making the few people nearby turn their heads, “Not today.”

Rick looks over at the man, flushed red from the attention, gritting his teeth with anger.

He unbuckles his seat belt with more attitude than it takes, and hops out of the car, making his way into Creme Cup without waiting a second for Negan to catch up, ignoring the looks he gets from nosy people.

-

The cashier sees Negan with Rick, and assumes with Negan’s frequent one-time Creme Cup dates, that Rick is another one of them and Negan wants his usual date order.

“Two queers?” The stringy haired blond says, looking between Negan and Rick.

Rick flushes with embarrassment.

Negan slips on a cheeky grin, saying, “Yes we are.”

The cashier sighs, “That was funny the first few times you and Lucille came here… Cherry or coke?”

“Cherry,” Rick and Negan say at the same time, much to Rick’s chagrin.

The cashier gives them a weird look, but then asks, “Will that be it?”

Negan looks over at Rick, who now looks devilish.

Rick orders a shit ton of food since Negan’s paying and he forced Rick’s presence at this place.

Negan doesn’t mind, and when he’s finished with his ice cream, he just sits and watches Rick eat.

Then he gets to thinking.

“So,” Negan begins, “Do you like boys?”

The scowl on Rick’s face morphs into that flush- the same flush he saw just yesterday morning in Anatomy, the same flush he just saw a few minutes ago when they were ordering their food.

Rick rubs a stray smudge of mustard off the corner of his mouth, swallows the bite of his burger that had been in his mouth.

“That’s none of your business.”

Negan shrugs, “I like boys.”

“I know you do,” Rick says, “You’re tryin’ to fuck me.”

“I like boys,” Negan repeats, “but I like girls, too.”

Rick stiffens as he awaits Negan’s next words, grabbing his cup full of soft serve and cherry slushie.

“You… you like boys _only_. I can tell.”

“Shut up,” Rick says weakly, looking down into pinky red and milky white, mixing it with his spoon until its just a pale pink.

“There’s nothing wrong with that, Rick,” Negan says, and his tone is gentle, but Rick cannot recognize it honestly- just sees sneers, hears mean snickering and condescending tones of false care: his cousin Louie and his aunt’s husband before he drank himself to death.

_Aw, its okay to be a little fairy, Ricky! There’s nothing wrong with being a fag!_

Rick stirs faster, hands shaking, vice like grip around a weak styrofoam cup.

“I’m being serious,” Negan says, “There’s nothing wrong with being ga-”

Rick snaps the second he hears the softness of the G, pale pink flying onto Negan’s face as his lips twitch into an angry frown.

Negan looks up at Rick after he’s wiped his eyes free to see, gaze full of utter surprise, hair full of sticky, melted ice cream.

“I hate you,” Rick says when he sees Negan’s mouth attempt to move, his trembling jaw making his voice shake, “I _hate_ you,” he repeats, firmer, and then he’s walking out the door.

He waits in the car, sitting passenger, arms crossed over his chest, tears stinging his eyes- he will not let them fall.

Some time, who knows how much, passes before Negan returns, hair clean but wet, shirt still soiled, face timid and nose still bandaged.

He gets into the driver’s seat and tosses his crutches in the back, bringing the top back up, caging their heads beneath the same roof.

They share a moment of unsteady silence, and then Negan clears his throat softly.

“Do you want me to take you home?”

Rick feels like he doesn’t have a home. Rick doesn’t want Negan to see where he lives because he’s embarrassed, because he knows Negan would go back for him whenever he pleases.

Rick doesn't want to go home and hear terrible words that make him feel terrible feelings. He doesn’t.

Quietly, he shakes his head no.

Negan is surprised but he doesn’t let it show.

“Where do you wanna go? I’ll take you anywhere.”

Rick shrugs.

Negan thinks up suggestions, says the first thing that comes to his mind.

“Do you wanna go back to my house?”

There is no double meaning behind his words, no accompanying smirk or lewd intent.

Rick can hear that, and he frowns so hard his lips shake.

He hasn’t been to Negan’s house in so long. He loved that place. That was his home.

Rick nods his head yes, and Negan starts the car without a word.

-

When they get back to Negan’s house, everything is quiet and dark.

Even obscured, Rick can recall every detail, every corner and every wall. Memories flood him with every step they take further into the house, and a lump fills Rick’s throat heartily.

He has to look down at his feet as he follows the sound of Negan’s clicking crutches.

They walk into Negan’s room, and Negan flicks on the light, shuts the door gently.

He walks over to his dresser, and Rick takes note of his surroundings.

The walls are still that warm brick red color, there’s still Naruto posters and stickers on the wall, though some of the stickers have been scratched off.

Negan’s bed is bigger- big enough for two, Rick thinks.

The room is messier than he remembers, but it smells like cologne now instead of spoiled chocolate milk. That’s a plus.

There’s lots of mirrors, too- like Negan likes to look at himself.

“You can sleep in here,” Negan says, and then he tosses a change of clothes on the bed.

When Rick gives him a look, Negan explains, “Thought maybe you’d wanna change.”

Negan crutches his way towards the door, “I’ll be in the spare bedroom if you need anything,” he says.

Rick can’t help but feel a little inferior now, like he’s let Negan win, like he's given in to Negan, like the boy is one step closer to getting what he wants.

“Not gonna sleep with me?” Rick asks, sarcastic and bitter, “Bet you’d love that, too, huh- getting me at my weakest?  Why deny yourself the pleasure now?”

Negan just looks sad.

“Because that’s not how I am,” he says stiffly, and then he adds a somber, “Goodnight, Blue,” before he leaves for good.

Rick sighs at the silence after the door clicks shut, but changes into Negan’s clothes, and then crawls into Negan’s bed.

He’s surrounded by the boy’s smell, and all his blankets and pillows. He smells good, though Rick hates to admit it and his bed is way more comfortable than what he’s been used to.

Still, Rick goes to sleep with one thought on his mind:

_This was the worst birthday ever._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank u all for reading! as always, feedback and constructive criticism are more than welcome! <3  
> ALSO if u read milk n honey, laundy recently did some AMAZING FUCKING ART for it, and I encourage you more than anything to [check it out](http://laundy.tumblr.com/post/167653256204/the-land-of-milk-and-honey-by-sirachamuchacha) because its beautiful and it made me cry lmao


	5. Maroon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I listened to [when im with you by best coast](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iDhtJFbwhOQ) a LOT while writing this chapter, so therefore... it has been influenced. check it out.

Rick awakes only hours later to a hand shaking his blanket cocooned body, and a sharp, accented voice saying, “Negan… _Negan!_ Why didn’t you tell me when you got home??”

Though awake, Rick is only half so.

He rolls towards the voice, lets out a fatigued, mumbled, “Hello?”

Negan’s mom gasps, flicks on the light.

“ _Ricky??_ Is that you??”

Rick grunts out a sound that means yes, and the woman lets out a delighted sound, close to tears.

“ _Llevantate_ , _por_ _favor_ , let me see you.”

Rick doesn’t understand Spanish at all, but somehow his mushy and sorta unconscious brain knows what she wants, and like clockwork he sits up.

His eyes are barely open and he’s half asleep, but she takes Rick’s face into her hands, studying him, moving his hair away from his face.

“Oh, you've grown up so much,” she says, and there's both awe and sadness in her voice, for many reasons, “I haven't seen you in years.”

She sighs, and Rick is all too tired to read into it, just lets his face be held by warm hands.

“How old are you now? Eighteen?”

Rick nods languidly.

“Happy birthday, little one,” she says, and she tries not to have her emotion waver through, “this better not be the last I see of you.”

“Okay,” Rick mumbles, somehow only growing sleepier the longer he sits up.

Negan's mom lets go of his face, plants a kiss on the top of his head, and then lets him go with a warm, “Get back to sleep.”

Rick complies gladly, and is out before his head even hits the pillow.

Later when he wakes up in the morning, he’ll look back on the memory as though it was the haze of dream; he's not sure if he made it up or if it really happened.

Negan's mother leaves the room, slight tears dampening her cheeks as she shuts the door, and nearly jumps when she sees her son just a foot away from her, looking as though he's been standing there for a while.

She figures he must've heard the whole ordeal.

“Negan,” she whispers, gently wiping beneath her eyes, “you scared me.”

Her sons face is slightly sorrowed, a little worried, very curious.

“Why are you crying, mom?” He asks, all those factors of his face mixing together in his tone.

“Don't worry about me, _mijo_ ,” she says, reaching up to pat his shoulder, “It's just been a while. _Y_ _ou_ know, don't you?”

Negan swallows, nods, “Yeah,” is all he says as he recalls the days of loneliness, of reinventing himself- the days of mystery and wonder and curiosity. Thinking and speculating, and the fear of being in the dark forever.

He's older now, maybe not mentally, but in time he definitely is.

“Mom?” he begins, voice quiet in case Rick can hear them- though he can't, “Why did he leave?”

She gives him the same look she'd given him years ago, somehow to a tee. Negan has that look ingrained in the depths of his mind because that look is an answer all in its own. It's too good for words.

“That's for him to tell you on his own time,” she says calmly, somber faced, “ _If_ he wants to. _If_.”

Negan nods like he would years ago, feels just as petulant and impatient as he would then, too.

His mother smiles, demure and soft, then she pulls him down to plant a kiss on his forehead.

“You get back to sleep, too.”

-

“Hey… hey, Negan,” Rick says, gentle at first, standing at the doorway of the spare bedroom and peeking his head in.

Negan doesn't budge, lying heavy on his back, mouth wide open and arms stretched out above his head.

His chest is bare, a long stretch of taut skin and slight hair. His legs are long, one still broken and casted, both scantily clad in those basketball shorts Negan takes so much pride in.

There's a noticeable bulge tenting the fabric and Rick’s stomach twists, so he has to look away.

“Negan!” He calls, this time louder, and the boy starts awake with a snore, jolting into a sitting position and head whipping towards the source of the sound.

When he sees Rick, his face goes through a series of looks- some comical, others pensive or disbelieving- until he settles with one of sleepiness.

Negan scratches a hand through his dark hair, “What's up?”

“I'm hungry,” Rick says plainly, still weary by the doorway.

Negan laughs, “And you want a bite of me to eat, or what? Wanna see if I still got some slushie up my damn nose? Cause I'll be honest with ya, Blue, I just fucking might.”

It's just playful banter, his words, but Rick doesn't find it all funny. Maybe it's just too early in the morning.

Rick rolls his eyes, “Good,” he says, “I hope you've got a mass of it in your damn lungs.”

Negan ignores how Rick sounds like he means it and instead asks, “What time is it?”

“... Five in the morning.”

“ _Five in the morning??”_ Negan repeats.

“Four fifty two, if you wanna be specific.”

“Why in the fat hell are you up so early?” Negan asks, still using that baffled tone of voice.

Rick shrugs in lieu of an answer, finally moves to sit in a vacant arm chair near the side of the bed.

It's on the opposite side of Negan, and when Rick settles, Negan turns to face him.

“You always wake up this early?” Negan asks, and the carefulness in his tone surprises even himself.

“Sometimes,” Rick answers, just as careful, “Depends.”

“Depends on what?”

“The day,” Rick says, “Usually wake up at this time if I'm running.”

“Are you running today?”

Rick shakes his head no.

“So why are you up?”

“Couldn't sleep,” is all Rick says.

Negan nods and rolls onto his back again.

“Because you're hungry?”

“That too.”

Things fall silent after that, and the sun starts to slowly seep in, dull but promising.

Negan takes in a deep breath, readying himself before he asks.

“Last night, at Creme Cup,” he begins, pausing to swallow, “Was I right? About you?”

He looks over at Rick, assessing his reaction.

He's not stiff and red like he was last night, he's not angry. Now, he's sheepish, maybe a bit ashamed.

Rick tucks his knees up into his chest, wraps his arms around them. He rests his chin atop it all, locking eyes with Negan as he answers with a quiet, “Yes.”

Negan nods, and that's it.

Rick wants him to talk more, to fill in the thick silence and cut through his nerves and his fear.

“Can you tell?” Rick asks, urgent, “Is it obvious? That I'm- that I’m… gay.”

He grits his teeth at the word. He's finally said it.

Negan gives a soft chuckle, but it doesn't wound Rick.

“It's not obvious you're gay unless you go around saying it all the fucking time,” he says, “I just figured. It was a guess, really. Every time I showed interest in you, you never hit me with the straight card- you just told me to fuck off. Usually the straight card is the first thing that happens when I hit on a dude, but not you. Then I just remembered something.”

Rick freezes.

“Remembered what?”

 _He remembers the kiss_ , Rick thinks. _Shit_ , _he's never gonna let me live this down._

“When we were little, maybe like seven or eight,” Negan begins and Rick doesn't breathe again until he says, “and you still thought girls had cooties. So when that girl Lori told you that you were cute you started crying.” Negan laughs a little, smiles deeply, “I mean, that doesn't really mean you're fucking gay. Maybe just sensitive or some shit. Like I said, I was just guessing.”

Rick laughs too, it's a little stiff, but it lets the nerves go.

Then quietness returns, and Rick lets it reign for only a second before he says,

“I've never told anyone that. I've been with someone before… kind of, but… it was never out there. It was never talked about.”

Negan thinks, then asks, “Do you want to be out?”

Rick ponders on the question. Yes, he would, if circumstances were different. But they aren't. He lives in a homophobic household, and that's the only place he has to live in this state. That being said, he doesn't exactly have many options.

“No,” he answers, after a while, “Not right now. But one day.”

One perfect day, maybe. If those exist.

Negan smiles, and it's comforting and natural.

“Alright,” he says, “Your secret is safe with me.”

Something in Rick's stomach turns, not unpleasant, and with that Rick knows he can trust Negan. He's not lying, or mocking.

He can tell by the soft look in his brown eyes, innocent and honest and young.

“Thank you,” Rick says, and it's almost a whisper.

Negan doesn't say anything, but his eyes say enough.

The newborn peace between them is disturbed when Rick's stomach rips a gnarly rumble.

Negan laughs, sits up again.

“Let's go make breakfast.”

-

Negan’s parents aren’t awake yet- hell, no one in their right mind is awake this early on a Saturday- so they have to be quiet as they work in the kitchen, which is way easier said than done, especially with Negan on fucking crutches, but they manage.

They settle on making pancakes, because it was sort of their thing at past sleepovers, and you can’t go wrong with pancakes.

Rick leaves to use the bathroom, and he isn't even gone for two minutes, but when he returns, he sees Negan forming two balls and a shaft out of pancake batter, his creation sizzling and bubbling.

Negan looks up at Rick, an all too satisfied smile taking up his face, “Shit… I still fuckin' got it, huh?”

Rick blinks, sighs, looks down at the pancake as it's being flipped, “Go sit down,” he says, “I’ll take it from here.”

Negan smirks, but complies nonetheless, sitting down on one of the stools by the island, setting his crutches down.

“That one's for you, asshole. It's some grade A fucking pancake art, so you better fucking eat it.”

Rick gives Negan a tired look in exchange, flipping the dick pancake onto a plate and handing it to the boy.

“I don't want it.”

Negan pushes the plate to the side.

“I don't want it, either,” he says, “It's for you. You know, to celebrate your coming out.”

Rick huffs a small laugh through his nose, and there's honest humor in it.

“I appreciate the gesture, but… no thank you. I think there's other ways to celebrate other than eatin’ dick shaped pancakes.”

“What other way would you want to celebrate?” Negan quips, adding- once Rick turns away, “You're eating that pancake. Even if you don't eat it here, you’ll eat it at your house. I’ll even fuckin’ pack it for you to make sure you do.”

There's no way in hell Rick is taking that pancake back home.

Rick pours more batter onto the pan, muttering, “You and your goddamn dick pancakes.”

Soon they're sat beside each other at the island, regular round pancakes and syrup on their plates, the Dick set aside.

Everything is quiet and tranquil, save for the clinking of forks and knives, and their arms scrub together every once in awhile- a conversational kind of warmth.

The sun has come out further since they first step foot in the kitchen, the window set just before them letting all the light shine relentlessly upon them.

Being quiet is another thing Negan is not used to, another thing he associates as one of his loser attributes of the past.

His loudness is what keeps thoughts from penetrating too quickly, too intricately. It kept first impressions at bay, his tongue- the way it whipped one way and then the next. His loudness is what distracts his own brain from having thoughts he couldn't control.

The loudness from outside makes it all quiet inside, but right now, it's quiet everywhere. Quiet as in peaceful- as in shared.

For Rick, it's nice to have some quiet that has nothing tying it down or thickening it or thinning it. It's nice to be blank and idle in a way that's like he's revitalizing instead of recuperating.

Their mutual calm and quiet is buffered when Negan's Dad walks in.

“Hey kiddos,” he says as he heads straight to the coffee pot, voice gruff with the morning and nonchalant as if his being accustomed to Rick has never left. Maybe it hasn't.

Rick and Negan say their greetings and as his Dad rounds the island, he catches eye of the dick pancake.

He blinks at it for a second, then looks up at his son with a questioning grimace before he smacks him lightly upside the head, muttering an entertained “ _Cabron_ ,” as he does it.

Negan snorts out a laugh, “Hey! How'd you know it was me? Maybe it was Rick's idea.”

That earns him a look over the rim of his Dad’s mug, “You’ve been drawing those things since you started going to public school. Your Mom and I had to learn to accept it.”

Rick laughs brightly.

Negan smiles an incriminating smile.

“You going into the shop today?” He asks his Dad, who nods his head yes.

“ _Y tu mama, tambien_ ,” he adds, “You two gonna be alright here by yourselves?”

Rick and Negan share a look- the former's eyes filled with the softest fright, the latter's full of glowy joy.

“Yeah,” Negan assures with a smirk, flashing a wink Rick's way when his Dad isn't looking, “We’ll be good, alright.”

Rick's stomach fills with dread; he can't help the way nerves flutter through his gut like butterflies at what being alone could lead to now compared to the past.

“I'm going back to sleep,” Negan says simply, as soon as the door shuts behind his parents.

That's… definitely not what Rick was expecting the boy to say. But maybe it's a plan for something more.

“Sleep?” Rick asks, digging for that _more_.

“Don't give me that tone,” Negan jibes, dropping his plate in the sink and then crutching back towards his room. Rick follows. “You wake me up at the ungodly hour of five o fucking clock in the morning to make you pancakes as if I don't need ten hours of sleep on the daily to fucking function at the bare minimum, and then act like I'm weird for wanting to go back to bed mid morning on a Saturday.”

Rick says nothing to that, can find anything worth digging in his tone.

Instead he follows Negan back to his bedroom, doesn't realize he's done it until Negan stops and turns to face him, looking pleased.

“My rooms back there, you know,” he teases.

Rick still says nothing.

Negan huffs an interested puff of air through his nose, “You finally gonna hop into bed with me or what?”

At that, Rick grimaces, brows furrowing indignantly, “You're an asshole,” he says.

Negan sees the frown deeply etched, how it drags his brow down along with his lips. It's a sad fucking look, and it fills Negan with something like guilt.

“Jesus, Rick, it was a damn joke. It can't kill you to loosen up just a fucking little.”

“How do you know? Maybe it would,” Rick retorts saucily.

“Well, God forbid,” Negan says, eyes trained on Rick.

Rick doesn't break their gaze, Negan does.

He turns to enter the spare room, not saying anything when Rick follows behind him.

“You know,” he begins, as he sets his crutches aside and hops back into the bed, “I've never fucked with a broken leg so can't promise it'll all be great- you might have to do all the work, not that I'm complaining-”

“Shut up already,” Rick sighs, settling back into the armchair besides the bed, “We both know nothin’ like that's going to happen.”

“Let a boy dream, Blue.”

“You do enough of that already. I don't even wanna be apart of _that_.”

Negan thinks about that, thinks back on _not even in your dreams!_

“So why are you in here then?”

Rick shrugs, “I'm not tired. I'd just be lyin' in your room alone, doing nothing.”

“You could rub one out.. or go through my things like any normal person would.”

“I'm scared of what I'd find,” Rick teases, adding, “Besides, at least in here there's a TV.”

Negan's on his back, head turned towards Rick, “Can't find the remote, so I guess you'll just have to watch me sleep.”

“I just saw you lie down on it, idiot.”

Negan shuffles, “... that's what that was.”

He tosses it to Rick and it's still warm to the touch from where it's been pressed to his back. It makes Rick laugh.

Then Negan tosses an arm over his stinging eyes, blocking them from the glare of the sun, and Rick turns on the television, putting on cartoons and turning down the volume so Negan can sleep.

When the morning cartoons stop showing, Negan is still asleep, so Rick tries to seek solace in the food network, but after a few episodes of Chopped, he finds it's to no avail.

So Rick, quiet as a mouse, decides to venture off to Negan's actual room to change back into his clothes from yesterday.

He throws the clothes he'd borrowed from Negan into the hamper and puts on the jeans and sweatshirt he had left on the floor last night, sitting on the edge of the boy’s bed.

Everything is so still and bright in the afternoon, in this house, that it makes Rick's curiosity rise, makes his senses alight.

It's then Rick decides to take up Negan's offer on snooping, and he starts with the first thing his eyes land on: the nightstand by his bed.

An alarm clock, some contact solution, a case for his glasses (Rick had been wondering where those had gone off to), some miscellaneous pieces of paper and candy wrappers, a lighter, and a bunch of lavender scented tea light candles. Probably not the best idea to have so many flammable things nearby, but the fact that there is seems very much like the boy- even if lavender scented candles don't.

In the first drawer, he sees two bottles of lube- one very _very_ close to empty, and a back up that's full to the brim- a pack of condoms, some hot pink duct tape, and a bright blue game boy color that brings back memories of shoving and pushing and kicking to see who'd get to play with it first, even a few memories of Negan crying when his mom told him to share.  

Rick picks it up to see if it works, and it doesn't. He wonders why Negan has it in there if it doesn't.

In the second drawer, it's just a bunch of cards. There's birthday cards and Christmas cards and everything in between. He reads through some of them and sees they're mostly birthday cards from his parents, from the age of eleven onward. He sees a couple from Lucille, then another one from the girl that's just a thank you card.

_Thanks._

_My parents didn't freak out like I thought they would._

_Have these candles I stole from bath and body works. You look like you could use some lavender._

_Love,_

_Lucy._

That holds a story all in its own, Rick thinks, and he wonders about the years where he and Negan weren't friends. He wonders what happened, and how he met Lucille.

Behind all the cards, there's a journal of maroon-ish leather, deep like oxblood.

He knows maybe he shouldn't, but he opens it.

He sees a fancy line that says This Journal Belongs To:

And Negan's name written messily along its length.

He flips to the first page, and reads only a few words before he is hit with a train of guilt.

_After Rick left, my mom told me I should start writing my feelings out in a journal. She said it would help-_

Rick reads that much and he shuts the book completely, clutches it in his hands like it'll jump up from his lap.

When he goes to shove it back where it came from, he notices something. Sitting there, faded and squished in the corner, is an origami bird made of manila paper.

Negan always used to fold origami shit, and Rick always had manila paper that smelt like old books lying around in his old house.

When he unfolds the swan and sees his own young handwriting splayed across the surface, his suspicions are confirmed.

_Happy birthday, Negan._

_I'm sorry I couldn't get you anything this year, but I was too scared to ask my parents for money. They've started getting really loud again._

_I had my eye on this really cool Naruto pen at the mall. It had rainbow ink and Naruto's head as an eraser. Maybe I shouldn't have told you that, cause you'll just want it more now that you can't have it. Sorry again._

_Anyways, I can't believe you're finally gonna be thirteen. Or that we're both going to be thirteen soon._

_Are you scared? Because I am. We're finally going to be teenagers. I like being twelve. It's been a really fun year, and it's because of you, mostly. I'm scared being older will get really bad and that things will get sad and scary like they do in movies._

_I hope it won't. I hope it'll be fun like being twelve has been._

_Happy birthday, and again, I'm sorry._

_-Rick._

When Rick had written that letter, he hadn't known that not a day after he'd given it to Negan, he'd be gone without a further word. He hadn't known that this letter would be his informal goodbye.

And he really didn't know that things could get sad and scary before you even turned thirteen. Things could get sad and scary whenever they wanted, and they just get sadder and scarier the more time goes on.

It's been a long four years, and everything is still weighing heavy on Rick's back.

Guilt and pain and panic and every intense emotion that comes with it.

Rick wipes a single stray tear that falls from his eye and places all the cards right back with the journal.

He spends a good amount of time trying to fold the piece of paper back into a swan, but try as he might, he just can't follow the lines folded into it. He's still trying when a knock sounds on the door.

He freezes for a second before he just tosses the piece of paper back into the drawer, shutting it urgently.

“Rick?” Negan calls, voice sounding as though he's just woken up, “You knocked out in there?”

Rick stands up from the bed, grabbing his bag and making it seem as though he's been looking through it.

“No,” Rick calls, “I was just uh, getting dressed. You can come in, I'm already done.”

The doorknob twists, Negan peeks his head in through the small opening he's allowed.

His eyes are wide and clear and hazel, though his face is a little puffy and his hair is ruffled and messy. He looks friendly and innocent.

“What are you doing?”

Rick blinks, as if it weren't obvious enough, “Nothing.”

Negan's eyes flit from the boy to the surrounding of his room, then back to the boy.

There's a slight smirk on his face now, nothing too smug, however; just entertained.

“You went through my shit,” he says, in matter of fact.

Rick's eyes widen just a fraction as his body begins to stiffen.

Before he can say anything to explain himself, Negan speaks again.

“Jesus, Blue, you look like you've got fuckin’ hemorrhoids. I don't give a shit if you sniffed my jockstrap or stole a couple swipes of my deodorant. Have fuckin' at it.”

Rick flushes, face scrunching up in a grimace, “I didn't sniff your jock-”

“Yeah, yeah, sure, I fuckin’ believe you,” he says, before he disregards it all and lifts a hand, holding up a ring of car keys, jingling them about, “Now… shall we?”

-

Being in the horse again is different for Rick this time around.

Now that he’s not busy feeling awkward or trying desperately to shrink away from Negan’s overall pursuit of him, he can notice the boy’s true intentions for last night.

He really was just trying to make it up to Rick, and he still is trying right now, in the sunlight of the fall afternoon, no wingman moon in the sky, or dark sultry colors all around them. Just bright red, all sparkly and glassy like a candy apple, and soft black leather beneath his body.

_I’d fucking love to fuck you any day of the week, but that’s not what this is about._

But maybe, Rick thinks, maybe that's what everything is about- this whole thing. Maybe it's all just a ploy to make Negan's intentions seem innocent after all.

Maybe Rick should just let himself fall for it. It's been awhile since he's been touched even faintly. He's never been fucked, or sucked, or anything like that. Maybe Negan would be a good person to try all that with.

But maybe not.

They're driving down highway 83, and it's dead and quiet save for the air that glides right past their ears like a slick blade. Music is also blaring, the same music that had been playing last night. It's a vague color in the messy whirl of sounds, but Rick notices it.

“Do you really listen to this kind of music?” Rick asks, voice barely audible over all the sounds.

Negan brings the top back up, turns the music down.

“What?” He asks.

Rick repeats himself.

“Oh,” Negan says, “It depends, kinda. I just listen to whatever the hell Lucille puts me onto.”

“So do you know any of these songs?”

“No, but they don't sound too bad.”

“Do you have anything you listen to on your own?”

Negan thinks, then says, “I like Sonic Youth… and the Smashing Pumpkins. I know I don't look like I do, but that's probably because I've only heard a few songs. Lucille showed them to me, but I kept going back, so I guess they're my favorite.” He spares a glance at Rick, “And you? Do you have favorites?”

“I like Billie Holiday.”

“That woman in your locker?”

“Yeah,” Rick nods, “But when I'm running, I like to listen to Radiohead. Or Mazzy Star. Anything that's kind of mellow, so it makes me feel like my organs aren't failing when I'm on my last mile.”

Negan laughs. “Good to fucking know. I’ll keep that in mind.”

Rick smiles, just because, and things even out.

A moment later, Negan says, “This playlist isn't that bad. Lucille did good.”

“Yeah,” Rick agrees, “Better than you ever could.”

Again, Negan spares Rick a glance. “You flirting with me, Rick?” He smirks.

“No,” Rick answers easily, and then he looks Negan up and down, thinks aloud, “Are you even supposed to be drivin' this thing?”

“No,” Negan answers, mimicking Rick's tone, “but my parents left the keys and this baby runs like a fucking dream. Plus she's a real pussywagon, don't ya think?”

Rick rolls his eyes, “Is that all you care about nowadays?”

Negan doesn't answer, just stares at Rick and his wind tousled hair for a moment too long as he pulls over on the side of the road.

Rick gives him a questioning look, half scared half annoyed.

“Wanna drive her?” Negan asks in lieu of an answer.

Rick blinks as Negan unbuckles his seatbelt.

“You're gonna let me drive the horse?” Rick asks incredulously. He tries to hide the excitement bursting through his skin, “You're not afraid of me messin’ shit up?”

“Well, you know how to drive, right?” Negan asks.

“Sort of,” Rick says.

“That's good enough for me,” Negan shrugs, “Now get the fuck out so I can hop into your seat.”

Rick doesn't put up a fight, instead he all but runs around the car to get to the drivers side, throwing himself into the seat eagerly enough that the car rocks with his weight.

When he gets his hands on the wheel, he can't help the giddy laugh that bubbles out of his body, or the electric look in his eyes as he looks over at Negan.

“We _dreamed_ of this,” Rick says, awestruck, and he hadn't meant to say it aloud.

Negan softens, says, “I know.”

The moment is fleeting, however:

“Seatbelt!” Negan hisses, when Rick reaches to turn on the car without being buckled up.

“Oh, right,” Rick says, followed by a quick click as he complies.

Then he puts the top down and turns the car on, putting it in drive and stepping ever so heavily on the gas, making the car groan as it zips forward.

Rick laughs so hard and loud he sounds insane, and Negan sees his cheeks pulled tight and flushed in a manic smile.

“OhmyGodOhmyGodOhmy _God_ _\- WE’RE GONNA DIE!_ ” Negan screams as they round a curve, clutching the car door like his life depends on it- but he's laughing, too; he's laughing so hard he feels like a giant tingly lump of mass.

Rick lets out a wild whoop, right from the breadth of his lungs, and Negan follows right after, letting his throat burn with his rebel cry and his eyes sting with the whip of the wind.

-

“I'm never letting you drive again,” Negan says, trying and failing to fix his hair in the visor mirror, “My hair looks like shit.”

Rick is quiet, breathing hard and heavy as he sits in the passenger’s seat again, staring straight ahead with a sated, soothed grin on his face. The leather feels even greater beneath his fingers now, and he might be shaking a little.

“That was… amazing,” Rick breathes, looking over at Negan with big doe eyes, “You know I’ve only ever driven like three times.”

Negan’s eyes widen quickly before he just snorts, laughing hard, “Oh my God, you could’ve fucking killed us!” He’s giggling, shrill and high, like he’s on some substance.

“I know!” Rick says, still too giddy and shaky, and they’re both doubled over laughing about their potential demise at the hand of Rick’s inexperienced driving.

“We’re two hours away from home,” Negan snorts.

“I know!” Rick snickers.

Negan wheezes, “We’re running on fumes and.. and I don’t have money for gas!”

“Me either!” Rick hiccups, wiping tears from his eyes.

“Fuck,” Negan says, coming down, “I was hoping you would,” he laughs some more, just to get it all out of his system, “... Let me call Lucille.”

Negan calls Lucille, asks her to break into his house while his parents are still gone and grab his wallet, then drive two whole fucking hours to come and give it to him.

He expects to get an earful and a half, but all he gets is an “Alright,” chirped into his ear.

“Wasn’t doing anything anyways,” she says, “I was gonna gonna call you and see if you wanted to hang out, but that was like, my last resort.”

Negan rolls his eyes, “See ya, Lucy,” he says, and then she hangs up and so does he.

“Okay,” Negan says to Rick, laying his head back, “Now we we wait.”

Rick looks outside the window at the truck stop they’re parked at, then back at Negan.

“She’s really gonna break into your house and then drive two hours to give you your wallet?”

“Well… she said she was, so … yeah.”

Rick hmphs thoughtfully.

“You two must be pretty good friends.”

Negan looks over at Rick, amuse written all over his face.

“Are you jealous?”

“Do I _look_ jealous?”

“No, but you sound it.”

“Why don't you ever try to fuck Lucille?” Rick asks suddenly.

Negan laughs, and Rick feels embarrassed.

“You weren't around for that, but I did try. Freshman year.”

Rick doesn't have the energy to voice that he _was_ there, even if Negan couldn't take the time to notice.

“ _Before_ I found out she was a lesbian.”

Rick blinks, “...Oh.”

“Yeah…” Negan says, then pauses before he continues, “But if you can't fuck ‘em, you befriend ‘em, right? I mean, _if_ they're cool.”

He looks at Rick pointedly and Rick furrows his brows because what the hell is Negan even trying to say?

Just then the boy extends his fist out towards Rick, saying, “I mean, I won't stop thinking you're hot… or wanting to lick your thighs… _and_ the dirty jokes will just keep on fucking coming unless you punch me like Lucille does, then I’ll stop, but it won't be easy.”

Rick's brows furrow further, only because he can't believe what Negan is really trying to do.

“So anyway,” he gestures towards his offered fist, “...Friends?”

Rick studies Negan's awkward face- it looks honest enough- then he studies his offer.

A smile begins to sprout right from nothing, his face relaxing into something soft and mild.

Rick lets his fist meet Negan's.

“Friends,” he assures.

-

By the time they get back in town, the skies are a deep navy, and there's tiny twinkling flecks of stars shy against it.

Their car is full of gas and they trail behind Lucille's old and lemony Mercury that looks straight out of the eighties.

Rick spends most of the ride home wondering how that thing made it through a two hour drive, and how it's going to make it another two hours back.

Negan doesn't talk much and Rick wonders why. Usually he'd be talking up a storm when Rick is around. He _was_ talking up a storm when they were waiting for Lucille, speaking of his broken nose and leg and what he wants for dinner and how his parents are gonna chew him out for taking the horse without permission, and how he doesn't really care if they do because he had fun.

Rick figures he must've talked himself out.

He's proven right when he steals a glance at Negan's face and nothing strikes him as odd or out of place. In fact, he looks at ease.

Rick lets himself be at ease, too, and he leans back into the squishy leather of his seat, letting the ambiance of the music sink into him.

He's an inch away from sleep when Negan says, “Fuck, I should probably take you home, huh? Your parents are probably wondering where you are. Did you tell them you were at my house?”

“Um, yeah,” Rick answers tersely.

Soon Lucille has gone her own way, and Negan has driven past his house, aimlessly coasting through highways as he waits for Rick to give him the information he’s lacking.

When he doesn’t, Negan asks, “So… where do you live? I’ll take you home.”

Rick shifts in his seat, “I don’t want you to take me home,” he says.

“You don’t? We’ve been out all fucking day.”

Rick is quiet.

“Are you hungry? Do you wanna go eat?”

“We just ate like two hours ago,” Rick says.

“Sorry I’m a growing goddamn boy,” Negan scoffs. A beat and then he says, “So you’re not hungry and you don’t wanna go home- then where the hell do you wanna go? There’s not much we can do.. You wanna go out and watch a movie or something?”

Rick shake his head, “I don’t wanna go out.”

Negan sighs, “Then what the shit do you wanna fuckin’ do? You don’t wanna go out, you don’t wanna go home- I’m not good at reading between the fucking lines, Rick, so why don’t you just tell me what the hell you’re trying to say.”

“I _don’t_ want you to take me home!” Rick raises his voice, gaze meeting Negan’s.

Negan’s frustration dissolves when he sees the genuine trouble in Rick’s face and in his eyes.

“Okay, okay,” Negan sighs again, turning around the block to get back on his street, “I won’t take you home.”

Rick settles into his seat just a fraction, and he thanks the universe that Negan doesn’t press on the issue. He probably already knows why Rick doesn't want to go home, anyways.

-

When Rick and Negan walk through the door of the latter’s house, Negan’s parents are there waiting for their son, ready to chew him out as Negan had been expecting.

But then they see Rick and they both soften considerably.

“Rick’s gonna stay another night,” Negan says, “Is that alright?”

“Yes, of course,” Negan’s mom says, gently, “Of course that’s alright.”

“Stay as long as you want,” Negan’s dad adds, and he has this sad look on his face that Rick doesn’t like.

If they know, and Rick is sure that they do, he doesn’t want to be pitied.

“Thank you,” Rick says either way, and with that, he and Negan head down the hall towards the boy’s room.

Negan pulls out a new change of clothes for Rick, tosses it on the bed.

“If you wanna take a shower, you know where the bathroom is,” Negan says, “Also, you can borrow my underwear if you want.” With that, he crutches towards the door, saying, “Goodnight, blue,” before the door clicks shut.

There’s a moment of silence before Negan returns, peeking his head in, “Oh, and thanks for saving my fucking ass back there. I’m probably gonna fuckin’ get it in the morning, but thanks anyways.”

Rick huffs a small, small laugh, “No problem,” he says, and then Negan is gone again for the night.

Once he’s sure he’s alone, Rick changes into Negan’s clothes, figures he’ll save the shower for the morning.

Then he gets into Negan’s bed, burrowing deep beneath the covers and lying there with his eyes closed. Now that things are quiet and slow- the exact opposite of going ninety five miles per hour in a bright red mustang- Rick can truly feel just how exhausted he is.

He doesn’t think he’s ever felt this tired, and he runs almost six miles a day on the regular. Even keeping his eyes closed feels like too much work, and breathing feels like it takes too much brain power.

His eyes spring open and he’s staring at the ceiling. He stares at it for a long time, until he becomes anxious and his legs want to bounce.

There’s only one thing on his mind, and it’s taking up all the space in his head:

 _I couldn’t have been the only one in pain_.

Soon he’s sitting up, digging through the drawers of Negan’s nightstand until his hands meet maroon leather.

He tells himself that if he skims through it, it won’t be that much of an invasion of privacy, so that’s what he does, he skims through the pages.

It dates from the end of his seventh grade year, which was a little while after Rick had left, up until the end of his fall semester of Freshman year.

Everything goes a bit like this:

Rick leaves and Negan is sad, so sad that the word is used more than ten times in two pages. He’s lonely- Rick sees the word lonely a lot. He also sees the word fat a lot, and it’s not used in a good way or as a descriptor or anything- it’s used as a vice, as the anchor of all of Negan’s problems.

 _I wish I wasn't so fat_ _,_  Rick reads, and the words are bare and saddening, heavy despite their simplicity.

There’s lots of Negan voicing his distaste of his body and his face and his hair and his glasses and his acne. He talks about how much he hates eating and then how much he loves it- and all this never changes or goes away- not even when things start to look up for the boy.

Not when he joins the basketball team, or when he makes new friends, or when he loses twenty pounds, then forty, then sixty.

It worsens when he gains back ten pounds and then another five, and every time he loses a game, and whenever he can’t find a girlfriend..

It doesn’t get better even when he meets Lucille, or when his parents accept him as bisexual. The negativity and the distaste never dwindle or cease and Rick doesn’t really get any clarification as to whether it ever does, because then the rest of the pages are blank.

Negan had stopped writing and Rick is left with a ton of questions and only one answer:

He was  _not_ the only one in pain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading!! i hope you enjoyed and I'm sorry about the slight delay. As always, feedback and constructive criticism are more than welcome <3333


	6. Orange

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i apologize beforehand for all the typos u readers will have to endure.... i proofread this shit in a mega hurry and im tired as fuck so im sorry lmao

Rick ends up staying at Negan's house for the entirety of Thanksgiving break.

No one seems to find it odd. If anything, it's as if everyone had been expecting Rick to do so anyways.

Negan has trouble believing that Rick is actually here at his house again like the good old days, like the simpler times. Sometimes when he looks in the mirror and sees himself aged eighteen and not eight, he has to blink hard and shake his head because he hasn’t been used to feeling this good in a long time.

The feeling makes him wonder what it is about Rick that is so different from all his other friends. Or rather, his other _true_ friends- which when it boils down, singularly consists of one girl and one girl only: Lucille.

Lucille’s a gem and she knows it. She’s a good friend, she’s always been there for Negan and she’s also the only person Negan cares enough for to actually return the favor. Considering the apathy he’s managed to acquire over the years, that says a lot.

But with Rick everything seems different. It’s not far from how things are with Lucille, not better or worse, either. There’s just something about Rick that makes their friendship different.

Negan tells himself it’s because he and Rick have history. He feels like that’s not the only reason, but he figures he’ll have to settle for that until something grander reveals itself.

All he has for now is history. All he has for now is his history quite literally living beside him.

Rick eats dinner with Negan and his family every night like it's nothing, and with all the questions Negan's parents ask, it seems they remember everything about Rick as if he was their own son.

One topic they don't touch upon is Rick's parents. It's almost as if they think those words- _parents, Mom, Dad, home_ \- don't exist in Rick's vocabulary, as if they've been burned off the scalp of Rick's memory entirely.

Rick cleans up after himself like he's a part of this household, because he is- _still_ is. He washes dishes and sweeps floors, mostly because Negan can't stand still long enough to wash dishes and his broken leg doesn't allow him the balance or mobility to sweep floors. Negan sees that as just another perk of having Rick around.

Rick showers in Negan's restroom and brushes his teeth beside Negan every night, much to his kinda-sorta dismay.

Negan spits toothpaste foam at his face and horseplay shoves him with his elbow in a fight for the mirror.

Rick shoots out swooshed mouthwash at Negan through the thin gaps in his teeth until the boy is begging for mercy, laughing and shrieking until Rick is too, the rest of his minty mouthwash falling from his smiling lips and onto the tile by their feet.

But there are some parts about staying with Negan that are more bitter than sweet.

Rick hears Negan say goodnight to his parents every night, punctuated with a kiss on the cheek and a hug. He hears an _I love you Mom, I love you Dad_ and two warm announcements of _I love you too son_ and Rick gets full of a deep sadness that does not wane.

It's sweet, yeah, and maybe if Rick let it spill around school that Negan still kisses his parents goodnight then Negan would definitely lose some cool points, but it's a part of Negan Rick was sure didn’t exist anymore. It's safe to say he's happy it still does. It's also safe to say Rick misses his parents.

Yeah they weren't mother or father of the year, but that's okay. No one's parents are.

One night when Negan knows Rick has heard his nightly exchange with his parents, he flushes a sheepish color upon seeing the boy. Rick smiles because he hasn’t seen Negan look so much like a boy (a sweet boy not a gross one) in so long.

“Don’t even start, Grimes,” Negan mutters, too embarrassed to meet Rick’s eyes, before he sighs and shoves away his shyness, saying with a far feigned confidence, “Yeah, I still kiss my Mommy and Daddy goodnight like I’m a little wuss, so fucking what? I love my parents, dammit, I don’t care who fucking knows. A lot of kids our age wait til they’re like fucking thirty or until they’ve actually accomplished shit to start giving a shit about their parents, but I say why not fucking now, you know? … So say what you goddamn want.”

Rick stifles a smile until his lips are pressed into a curved line.

“I think it’s cute,” he says, and he’s baffled when he sees Negan’s flush burn deeper.

Negan narrows his eyes, “Don’t you fucking patronize me.”

“Really,” Rick insists, eyes widening with the surprise that Negan doesn’t believe him, “I’m being serious. It’s sweet.”

“Sure,” Negan says curtly, and he crutches off to the spare bedroom down the hall.

It doesn’t take Rick long to understand why Negan doesn’t believe him: He thinks he’s being made fun of.

Rick lets that information sink in as he settles into Negan's bed, wearing Negan's pajamas.

Rick still wears Negan's clothes- hasn't deigned yet to wear his underwear, he'd rather free ball- but he's starting to miss his own.

But while he misses his clothes, he doesn't miss home.

-

The day before Thanksgiving, Negan wakes in what must be the early morning to the sounds of Rick bustling about down the hall. Confused and uninhibited due to his muddled lack of sleep, Negan hops into the hall on his good leg, donning nothing but his underwear and his cast, hand coasting the wall for balance.

Clutching the doorframe, Negan watches with a lazy smirk as Rick tries to quietly sneak out of his- well, Negan’s- room.

He watches as Rick shuts the door at record slowness, trying his damnedest to make the closing click of the door near silent, but it’s all in vain because Negan is looking straight at him.

“Where ya running off to, slicky Ricky?” Negan chimes, voice gritty from sleep, though the amuse translates easily.

Rick jumps, letting out a funny noise, obviously startled.

“ _Goddammit,_ don’t do that! You scared the shit out of me, you asshole-”

“Don’t ignore my question, _Riiick_ ,” Negan says, in a sing song voice. 

Rick sighs, eyes just a little skittish, “I’m going for a run, okay? I’ll be back in a couple hours.” 

“A run at five in the morning?”

“I told you, I like to run early. Is that such a crime?”

Negan looks over Rick, at his face and his body and what he’s wearing. Running shorts and running shoes and a thin t-shirt, phone strapped to his arm.

It definitely looks like he’s going out for a run, but there’s something written on the boy’s defensive face and in his too careful actions that makes Negan think twice.

In the end, he decides to just let it go.

“Okay,” Negan shrugs, “I’ll probably still be asleep when you get back, but if you need me… you know where to fuckin’ find me.”

With that, Rick makes his way down the hall.

“... Hopefully you’ll be wearing pants when I get back, too,” the boy murmurs.

Negan looks down at his body, sees his boxers and their gaudy flame print.

“You’re welcome!” Negan calls out, just before he hears the front door shut, as if a closer look at his nude body could be a blessing.

Instead of going back to sleep like he said he would, Negan lies on the couch in the living room, wondering if Rick was telling the truth and if he can still read the boy like Naruto Vol. 1.

He gets his answer when Rick returns from his run not even thirty minutes later, wearing different clothes, and carrying a spare bag on his shoulders.

Then Negan knows he was right.

“You went to your house, didn't you?” Negan asks, startling the boy who once again thought he was in the clear.

Rick freezes just a few feet in front of the front door, staring across the room at Negan.

It’s a small house.

“Yeah, I did,” he says, looking down at his feet, a bit of guilt clinging to his tone.

Negan crosses his arms over his bare chest, trying not to look as indignant as he feels.

“You could have just said that, you know. You didn’t have to fucking lie about it.”

Rick makes his way over to the living room, tentative, but still. “If I had told you, you would’ve wanted to take me.”

Negan considers that, knows its true for the most part. “Well, like… yeah, but-” When he can't find anything to prove Rick wrong, he disregards the matter at hand and brings up another question instead, “What’d you even go get anyways?”

“Clothes,” Rick answers simply, coming to sit on the armrest of the couch near Negan’s head, “Underwear. Some things I needed to finish school work. The book I haven’t even started reading for Lucille’s book club.”

“Aw _shit_ ,” Negan mutters, all their tension gone as he looks up at the ceiling now, Rick’s body near his head casting a shadow across his eyes, “I haven’t fucking read that shit either… I mean, besides that one time in third grade… Hell, even then I didn’t really fucking read it. Just went in one ear and right out the fucking other.”

“Yeah,” Rick says with a vague smile, “I remember.”

“What do you mean you remember?” Negan asks, entertained, looking over at the boy’s hip on the armrest, “You weren’t even in my class that year. Your class read the fucking Giving Tree like a bunch of pussies.”

“Don’t bash Giving Tree,” Rick warns, “Everyone loves the damn Giving Tree.”

“Freshmen year they used to call me the Giving Tree” Negan says, lewd and smirky, “Not because I gave _trees_ , but because I gave _head_ to every hot upperclassmen on the fucking basketball team… Actually they didn’t call me Giving Tree, they called me Slut and I just wanted to let you in on that wonderful fucking phase of my life.”

Rick makes a noise of disgust, but there’s humor to it, “What do you mean phase? Bet you still do that to this damn day.”

“Yeah,” Negan shrugs, “Except now they don’t call me slut, they call me Da-”

“ _Don’t!_ even finish that sentence,” Rick interrupts, shoving a pillow in Negan’s face as he gets up from the couch, “I’m going back to sleep,” he says, walking towards the hall.

Negan huffs a laugh through his nose, smiling insufferably wide as he moves the weaponized pillow behind his head, shifting about the couch, trying to get comfortable.

“Daddy,” Negan mumbles with his eyes closed, willingly laying himself out for slumber’s taking as he speaks to himself under his breath, “Those fuckers called me Daddy.”

-

On Thanksgiving day, Negan knocks on Rick's door (again, _his_ door) at around eleven thirty in the morning, yelling, “Rick! The food is ready!”

Rick yells back, “I'm coming! Give me a minute!” From the other side of the door.

Negan crutches as fast as he can back to the kitchen, the smell of the food casting a spell on him as he makes himself a plate.

He's sat down at his spot at the table, stabbing a forkful of food, about to bring it to his mouth when his Dad swats it away.

“Can't you wait a couple minutes for Rick?” He asks.

Negan frowns, “He's taking forever!”

His mother gives him a pointed look, full of stern warning, “We’re not eating until Rick’s at the table,” she says.

“Damn it..” Negan whines, drawing out the words petulantly and leaning back in his chair in defeat.

When thirty seconds pass and Rick still isn't at the table, Negan takes it upon himself to get to the bottom of it, excusing himself from the table and making his way back to his room, knocking urgently and obnoxiously on the door.

“Rick, hurry the hell up, I'm hungry as shit, dammit!”

“I said I'm coming!” Rick yells back, muffled by wood between them, “Jesus, give me a second!”

Negan huffs, “What are you even doing in there? Braiding your chest hair? Writing a goddamn movie? Building fucking Rome?? You're killing me, Blue-”

Before Negan can complain some more, the door is opening in his face, and Rick is standing before him, hair neat and clothes nice.

He's wearing a sweater that has all the colors of the changing leaves outside, and a pair of jeans that make his legs look like a sight to be seen.

His hair looks soft and clean, curls brown and shiny and tucked behind his ears, shaping to the nape of his neck, and his face is clear and ethereal, eyes blue and blue and blue.

He looks unbelievably good, and effortlessly so, despite the amount of time he probably spent getting ready. Negan is caught between being jealous of Rick and wanting to take him back into his room so he can bend him over the bed and stuff him like a goddamn turkey, run his hands through his hair and ruffle those curls, make that clear skin run red and sweaty.

Negan's too busy being caught on the latter option to notice Rick is staring at him with utter confusion.

“Why aren't you dressed up?” Rick asks, staring down at Negan's bare chest and his stain spotted sweatpants.

Negan shakes his head free of those sinful thoughts and then says, “What, my crutches aren't enough for you?” Before he adds, “Why are _you_ dressed up?”

“Your mom always used to make us dress up for Thanksgiving,” Rick says, brow curled in confusion still.

Negan's impatience dissipates and gently he smiles, remembering those memories fondly even though he used to hate dressing up back then- still does.

“She's gotten a little more lenient with that rule,” Negan explains, looking pointedly down at his own attire, or lack thereof, as a show of evidence.

“So am I overdressed?” Rick asks, looking slightly nervous.

“Nah,” Negan answers easily, “My parents won't care. My mom will probably be pretty stoked, actually. Anyway, Lucille's coming over soon, she'll take the attention off of you like it's fuckin’ nothing. That girl never turns down an opportunity to dress up; she'll probably come in a goddamn Prom dress for all we fucking know.”

“Lucille's coming over?” Rick asks, face going bright.

“Yeah, she's been coming over for Thanksgiving since…” Negan trails off, “Well, since… you know what I fucking mean.”

 _Since you left_.

That's what Negan means.

Rick thinks back on that journal in Negan's nightstand drawer, and he knows why the boy can't finish that sentence. It's the same reason Rick saw the word sad used so much in his entries: it hurts too much.

“C’mon,” Negan says, but his voice is quiet now, not as urgent, “Let's go eat.”

Negan's not so hungry now, though. Not after seeing Rick and his beautiful fucking face, and not after being reminded of that horrible time in his life when that beautiful fucking face was gone.

Sure Rick wasn't beautiful back then like he is now, but he was still beautiful in the same way he was Negan's friend.

When the two of them get back to the table, and Negan's Mom catches sight of the two of them together, all silence ceases to exist.

She lets out gasp, hand covering her mouth, dramatic as always, and makes her way over to Rick, saying, “Oh my God, Rick, look at you!! When did you become so grown up and handsome? I remember when your little curlies used to stand up on end; nothing could make the frizz go away!”

She touches his face, as if the contact will provide her with answers, and then she pulls him into a hug.

“Shit, I guess I'm just the goddamn ugly duckling, huh?” Negan quips sarcastically, and his father laughs.

“ _Callate ya,”_ His mom says to him, slapping his shoulder as she pulls away from Rick, “Of course you're beautiful, too. You're my son.”

She takes another look at the boy she hasn't seen in so long, then moves back, getting a better look at both Rick and her son.

She smiles in a way that looks like she might cry, and then she says, “Don't move! Let me go get my camera!”

Before Negan or Rick can say anything, his Mother is gone and back, aforementioned camera poised in her hands, pointed at the two boys.

That's when Negan says, “But mom, my tits are out!” and Negan's dad laughs again while Negan crosses his arms over his chest.

“Just one photo!” His mom says but everyone knows that'll hardly be the case, “Who knows when you'll both be together again?” She says, and Negan stiffens with sudden sadness before she can add, “Once college comes around, you two won't be around as much… Now c’mon, just one picture for your mother!”

Negan sighs, “Fine,” and braces himself for the awkward photo op.

Rick and Negan smile but they're small and embarrassingly forced because they don't want to take a picture.

“Get closer!” His mom says, and Negan inches into Rick by a fraction.

“Closer!”

An inch more.

“Just a _liiitle_ closer!”

An inch more.

“ _Poquiiito mas!”_

An inch more, and his chin might as well be hooked over Rick's shoulder, so he goes ahead and puts it there while he's at it, making Rick squeal out a laugh and a “Ow! Why is your chin so pointy?”

Negan laughs too, and Rick can feel it physically running through his body, that sound.

Then the flash is going off and Negan's mom is saying, “Aw! Perfect!” and taking three more before they can finally get on with eating.

Negan's appetite still doesn't make a return, even though his stomach rumbles, he doesn't want to eat and he feels silly letting his emotions affect him this way.

He should be happy: Rick is here, there's food on the table, his parents are happy, Lucille is coming over.

Still he picks at his food, stabbing some with his fork and lifting it to his mouth. No one seems to notice when it doesn't actually make it in there, or when he chews for too long to be normal when it actually does make it into his mouth.

His mom is talking to Rick about Lucille when Negan catches sight of his own stomach, folded and creased with the position he's sitting in.

He feels his will to eat dwindle a little more, and a sudden anxiety about the pictures he just took with Rick fills him with dread. He can't look good in those pictures and he knows it, and knowing his mom, she's probably gonna put those pictures up somewhere in the house and he's going to have to be reminded everyday of how disgusting he looks and how much weight he's gained.

Negan jaw clenches with thought, hand falling slack against his fork.

Well, he _has_ to eat, he reminds himself. Even if he wants to lose weight, he has to eat- and with that he gains some conviction as he looks at his plate.

“Negan?” His mom says, snapping her son out of the thick goo that is his thoughts.

Negan shakes his head, “Oh, uh.. yeah?” He says, hoping his mom hasn't noticed his abnormalities.

“Did you tell Rick about Lucille and the pecan pie?”

Negan loosens with relief, lights up with a smile at the memory, “Oh,” he says, and begins telling the story.

It was the first year Lucille started coming over for Thanksgiving, their Freshman year, and Negan's mom had asked Lucille if she had wanted some pecan pie, jokingly tacking on “its homemade!” because she thought it was painfully obvious it was store bought.

And Negan thought it was obvious, too, thought Lucille knew when she accepted his mom's offer.

It wasn't until they got back to school the following Monday, and Lucille told Negan, “Wow, your Mom’s pecan pie is the best shit I've ever had in my whole life. Where does she get her pecans?” That Negan realized she never caught onto the joke.

It's been three years and she still hasn't, and Negan's mom still buys the same brand of pecan pie especially for the girl.

“We had to let you in on the secret,” Negan's dad explains with a smile, “Before you became a part of it.”

Rick laughs, and so does Negan, who manages to push away enough of his negative thoughts to finish more than half of his plate.

When they're done though, and his parents head to the living room to watch La Bamba like they do every Thanksgiving, Negan goes to his room to go put on a giant sweatshirt, careful not to catch a glimpse of his stuffed stomach in the mirror.

Rick follows behind him, lays himself sluggishly across the bed.

“What time is Lucille coming?” he asks.

Negan shrugs, turning to look at the boy, “I don't know,” he answers, “Usually she'd be here already. Guess she's coming late.”

Negan makes his way over to the bed, sitting wearily on the edge.

Then he remembers who he is, and that this is _his_ bed and he lays down right beside Rick, carefulness pushed aside along with his crutches.

Rick doesn't seem to mind too much. He doesn't say anything, at least. Instead, he just grabs his book off the nightstand, opening it up to the first page.

“We should probably try and make a dent in this thing before she comes,” Rick says, “I tried reading it last night, but.. I don't know, I just couldn't concentrate.”

“Shit, maybe we should,” Negan agrees, gently taking the book from his hands.

Rick scoots in closer until his head is practically resting on Negan's shoulder, and Negan tilts the book towards Rick a little more so he can see the words.

“Are you gonna read it?” Rick asks, and when he turns his head to look at Negan, he finally realizes how close he is to the boy.

His mouth is just an inch away from his face, and when he casts his eyes down, he can see the faintest hints of stubble dusting across his cheeks and upper lip and chin.

Negan turns, too, and Rick stops breathing when he feels Negan's exhale breeze across his face, heart rabbiting when he notices Negan's eyes flick down to his lips for just a second.

Just a second and then they're back on his eyes.

“Do you want me to?” Negan asks, and Rick almost chokes and says yes, because he thinks Negan's asking if Rick wants him to kiss him- and wouldn't that be fine?

A kiss, after so long. Maybe Negan wouldn't be the most ideal person to kiss as of now, but he's good looking and he's familiar and experienced and he'd do just fine, yes he would.

But then he remembers they're talking about reading, and the answer is still yes.

“Yeah,” Rick says, “That's okay.”

“Okay,” Negan says and his eyes fall down to Rick’s lips _again_ , then back down towards the book.

Their sparse conversation dims down to nothing except the sound of Negan reading aloud, easy and gentle, the sounds of the movie playing in the living room sinking muffled through the walls.

As he listens to Negan read about the story of a little girl moving from rundown house to rundown house- her parents promising her one day they'd live in a place with a white picket fence, and a backyard they didn't have to share with anybody; a house with three washrooms and a basement, a house they could call home- he is reminded of his mother and her own promises that one day they'd actually settle. That one day they wouldn't be running off from state to state and then city to city trying to steer clear of the man Rick never wanted to call his father ever again. That they'd have their own house and be able to pay for it.

All that never happened, and now here Rick is, and as the girl speaks of her shame in where she lives now-

_You live there? The way she said it made me feel like nothing. There. I lived there. I nodded. I knew then I had to have a house. A real house. One I could point to. But this isn't it. The house on Mango Street isn't it. For the time being, Mama says. Temporary, says Papa. But I know how those things go._

-Rick feels his own shame boil behind his eyes, the hot tears stinging him so meanly.

He tries and tries not to let them fall, concentrates so hard on not crying that it's the only thing that is on his mind and he can't hear Negan's voice anymore.

But then his eyes are full to the brim, and the tears slip past. Even then he tries to keep quiet, but his breath is shaky and uneven, and before Negan can make it to the next chapter, he feels something wet seeping through his sweatshirt.

He turns his head and is surprised to see Rick looking sheepishly at him with blue eyes full of tears and a kind of look that says _please don't look at me_.

“Blue,” Negan says, and the softness of his voice makes Rick feel pathetic, makes him have to look away, “Blue, are you- why are you crying?”

Rick just shakes his head, hiding his eyes in Negan's shoulder.

Maybe it's the book, Negan thinks, and he tries to remember what they've just read to see what could've caused the water works, but everything went in one ear and out the other.

He puts the book down, and lets Rick cry on him.

“It's okay,” Negan says, laying a tentative hand on Rick's arm as the boy's sobs further. “Whatever it is, Blue, you'll be okay. I promise… you'll be okay.”

He tries to soothe Rick by rubbing warm circles into his skin, but it doesn't help and Negan doesn't know what to do.

So after a while he just lays there, lets Rick cry himself out.

Then his sobs lessen after a while, until he's just sniffling, until his breathing is long and even and he's cried himself to sleep.

When that's happened, Negan turns to take a look at Rick, who's still leaning on him.

Slowly, as to not startle the boy, Negan tucks back the hair that's fallen out of place behind Rick's ear.

Not even in sleep does he look at peace, and his eyes are puffy and his cheeks are wet. Negan wonders if that's all the time, or just now that he's been crying.

Quietly, almost below a whisper, Negan asks the sleeping boy, “What happened to you, Blue?”

He's too scared to ask Rick that question while he's awake.

He doesn't know how Rick will react.

If this little scene right now was of any telling, Rick is obviously still wounded.

And Negan thinks he really doesn't want to know why, doesn't want to know the extent of it all.

Negan's only eighteen and he knows how cruel the world can be. He's had just a small taste of it, and he's heard some terrible things.

He'd like to retain some of his naïveté for as long as he can, because if the world got Rick when he was just so young, then nobody is safe.

Then there is no hope for anybody.

Negan gazes at Rick a little longer, until he's sure the boy is truly at ease, and then he lets his eyes close too.

When he wakes up again, it's because of Lucille.

“Wow, you invite me over and you're both fucking sleeping?” The girl says, around a mouth full of pie.

Negan starts awake with a sharp sighs, sitting up straight, dislodging Rick's head.

He takes sight of Lucille, wearing a drab ensemble of sweatpants and a hoodie, so insanely out of character it strikes Negan as worrisome.

“ _That's_ your outfit?” Negan asks, and his muffled brain makes his words sound more accusatory than he meant for them to.

Lucille's face runs hard, “Yes, asshole,” she murmurs, and she takes another bite of her pie.

Rick had rolled once or twice, but is still asleep, unaware of Lucille's presence or Negan's consciousness.

“If you two are just gonna be sleeping, I'm gonna go watch La Bamba with your parents.”

Negan can tell she's slightly offended by his earlier comment, so he says, “Hey, Lucy, you know I didn't mean it like that. It's just that.. you love dressing up and all that shit. You were wearing Maison Margiela boots while you were in bed with the fucking flu. Not that it fucking matters if you wear sweats every once in awhile. You're still hot as shit.”

She rolls her eyes, “Thanks, Negan, that really means close to nothing coming from you, since you're a fucking dude and you'll fuck anything that moves.”

Negan sighs, looks over at the boy next to him who's still sleeping like a rock.

“Now if you'll excuse me,” Lucille says, hand on the doorknob, “I think Richie Valens is about to die and I don't wanna miss that part.”

At that, Negan grabs his crutches, “Wait! I wanna watch, too…”

Lucille holds the door open for Negan.

“Oh,” she remembers, slipping a bag from her pocket to Negan's, “I brought the stuff.”

Negan smirks, “Happy thanksgiving to us, am I fucking right?” He whispers.

Lucille hmphs, gestures back towards Negan's room, where Rick is sleeping, “Maybe just you.”

-

Once the movie ends, Lucille and Negan are on a mission, one that Rick has to be apart of no matter what his stand on it is.

“Rick, wake up!” Negan calls, prodding the boy's ass with one of his crutches.

A groan, and Rick swats the crutch away.

“Why?” He asks.

“Don't argue with a man on crutches and his lesbian counterpart,” Lucille says, “Anything we say or do is strictly business and law.”

Rick half sits up, lazily surveying the boy and girl before him with half lidded eyes. Already his face holds the confused disapproval he knows does not sit in his gut for no reason.

Anyway, he gets up with a sigh, rubbing his eyes and following the two outside, piling into Lucille's car without any further question.

Until he gets vaguely annoyed when the two start talking, just loud enough for the them to hear, and then Lucille makes a turn and Negan's crutches hit him in the leg and he starts thinking why the hell did they even bring him along if they're not gonna talk to him? He could be back at Negan's house sleeping and eating in whatever order he pleases, not sitting in the backseat of Lucille's Merc, holding Negan's crutches.

So he voices this thought aloud and he gets an answer that irks him even further.

“Your secret mission is finding a spot to smoke _weed??_ ” He asks, voice thin and incredulous as he stares at the two in disbelief.

“...Well when you put it like that…” Negan says, voice drifting off.

“It's harder than you think,” Lucille says, defending both her and Negan's honor before she continues with a sheepish, “By the way, you got any suggestions? Any ideas? Maybe you're down to be hospitable and let us hotbox your place?”

Both Negan and Rick stiffen at that last sentence, even if they don't know they both do.

Rick loses a bit of the fire that had been smoking beneath his ass.

“I don't know,” he says, honestly putting some thought into the matter, “Where do most people who smoke weed go when they can't smoke it at their house or a house party? The woods? The skate park maybe?”

Both Negan and Lucille gasp.

“ _The skate park!”_ They say in unison.

“Rick, you're a fucking genius!” Lucille tacks on.

“A fucking modern day hero,” Negan adds, “Oh, I could fucking kiss you right now.”

Rick huffs a laugh, “Please don't,” he says, and Lucille snickers.

Then they're on the way to the skatepark, where they sit on the cliff of the smooth, concrete bowl- six legs dangling off the edge, one of them broken.

There's three other people there, and they're actually skating.

Rick knows them, too, though not all by name.

He recognizes Tara and Rosita from school over by the rails (“Goddammit, they're hot _and_ they skate? Un-fucking-fair… and I'm pretty sure they're dating, too.. Fuck this world is a bitch,” Lucille croons miserably), and not too far from them but close enough to be apart of their group, is that stringy haired blond cashier from Creme Cup (“What the fuck is that Dwight? Shoulda known. Dude looks like a fucking skater,” Negan says, oddly fascinated).

Lucille pulls out a pipe from her bra, and a baggy from her shoe. How shameless she is about packing and lighting astounds even Negan as the two boys look about their surroundings with nervous eyes.

The town is dead, and everything surrounding the skate park looks dark and unreal with how bright and fluorescent the lights around them shine.

Rick feels on edge, like a cop or a snitch might be lying somewhere within all those thick layers of night.

But there's no telltale sign or sound, and all that can be heard is the sounds of wheels whirring against concrete, the occasional scrape of metal against metal, and the click of tricks being landed. If they look up they can see the sounds as they happen, but Negan and Rick are too caught up in watching Lucille participate in breaking the law.

Soon the ground up bud is lit, and Lucille's mouth is on the receiving end, swallowing up smoke while Negan rushes her for his own try.

Rick shakes his head.

“Don't you think this is kind of dumb?” Rick asks, and it's a question meant for both of them, but mostly for Negan, “We could get caught… and the smell? The smell’s gonna stick to your clothes- and mine- and if your parents catch of whiff of us they're gonna lose their shit.”

Negan rolls his eyes, making a show of sucking on the pipe before he blows out the thick smog in Rick's face, making the boy cough and fan the air in front of him.

“You're an ass,” Rick mutters, and he looks away from Negan, facing forward.

“To answer your fucking question, I’m a fucking Senior, Rick, of course this shit is fucking dumb. I'm eighteen, and I'm only getting fucking dumber. Losing brain cells by the second, right as we fucking speak. And since I'm only getting dumber, well I'm gonna have to get a whole lot better at fucking hide it, at looking respectable or what the fuck ever. Right now, every fucking adult thinks I'm a dumbass anyways, so might as well ride that wave for as long as I can, and you know, live a fucking little-”

Before Negan can finish his little ramble, a voice cries, “ _NEGAN,_ _WATCH OUT!”_ But before Negan can watch out, a board is flying aimlessly up and out of the drop in, running on pure momentum until it's path is blocked by the stiffness of Negan's forehead, and the boy is being snagged in the face by the bill of Dwight’s board.

Once it hits him, it flies right back down, and Rick watches in horror as a stream of blood breaks through his skin, its flow becoming blocked by the solace of Negan's instinctive palm.

Lucille is lying on her back, convulsing with laughter after having seen the whole thing.

Rick is still horrified, watching in shock as Negan's hand becomes coated in his own murky fluid.

“Are you anemic?” Rick asks stupidly, but his question is honest and concerned, “Your blood looks orange.”

Lucille laughs louder, so loud it sounds like she's sobbing and screaming, and her face is flushed with lack of air, arm wrapped around her core to support her own woes.

Later, he'll come to laugh, too, thinking about the image of Negan with a broken leg _and_ nose, getting fucked in the face by a skateboard while smoking weed. It's ridiculous, in retrospect.

Negan doesn't answer Rick's question, doesn't continue his speech about being young and dumb.

Instead Dwight jumps out of the bowl, grabbing his board and coming to Negan's side.

Tara and Rosita are still down there, looking up with amuse, snickering with shock.

“Oh my God, did Dwight just nail that basketball playing douche right in the fucking head?”

“Shit, he fucking did.”

“Serves him fucking right. Dudes an asshole… Hey, is that Rick?”

Dwight puts his hand on Negan's shoulder, assessing the damage he's done.

“You alright, dude? Oh my god, I'm so sorry, man, she just slipped out from under me. Tell you what, next time you come into Creme Cup, it's on me, I swear to you, man-”

“Hey... I didn't know you skated,” Negan asks, sounding slightly dazed as orangey blood slips down his forehead and the bridge of his nose. Some of it mingles in his eyebrows, gliding right past his eyes, most of it runs between his fingers, where he's still bare handedly applying pressure to his wound.

“Uh… yeah, I skate..” Dwight says, confused and slightly alarmed by Negan's behavior.

Negan's voice gets all wavy and thin, and he mumbles out, “Can you do some tricks for me? I've.. I've always wanted to… to skateboard,” right before he passes out, falling slowly and comically to the side, head landing in Rick's lap, his blood smearing onto Rick's jeans and the hem of his sweater.

Lucille is still laughing and Dwight looks scared.

Tara and Rosita are still snickering and Rick is just staring at the dark head of hair stuffed still and motionless in his lap.

The boy could never handle pain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank u all for reading! I hope you enjoyed and as always, feedback and constructive criticism are more than welcome :) <33


	7. Purple

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry 4 the typos... i do that a lot.  
> also... may i recommend listening to all apologies by nirvana while reading this chapter??? its on the [playlist](https://open.spotify.com/user/leeyumpain/playlist/489EY5tObIlqVMSext9PMt) ;)

Things continue to be good.

Rick thinks that when school comes around again, things will still be good but that's where he's wrong. That's where his naïveté comes in.

“Rick, wake up!” Negan says, words muffled by the toothbrush in his mouth, walking crookedly into his room, bringing in a burst of frantic energy as he comes.

He's ditched his crutches for the boot now, after his most recent check up.

He was under doctor's order to still use the crutches just for some extra support, but Negan refused to heed the call, too excited to finally have a touch more independence with his mobility.

Rick sits up slowly in the bed, rubbing his eyes, yawning deeply.

As soon as his fists leave his eyes, he's met with the sight of Negan's hysteric stripping.

“What's going on?” Rick asks, voice quiet and gritty, watching Negan slip off his shirt and yank off his shorts, eyes going wide when there's nothing beneath them and Negan's naked right before him.

If there was any excess sleep in his body- and there sure was- it's gone now forever.

“School,” Negan says, as if it's obvious, voice still muffled, “We’re fucking late!” Then he grabs a pair of jeans, trying and failing to put them on over his boot, before he realizes he's gonna have to take that off, too.

Rick is still frozen when Negan gets his jeans buttoned and zipped, hanging comfortably from his thin hips.

All Rick can think about is how right beneath that denim is straight up dick, no cotton spandex or plain cotton or anything like that, just flesh.

He swallows.

“Are we so late that you didn't have time to think about putting on any underwear?”

Negan smirks, sitting on the edge of the bed, strapping his boot back on.

“Had to fucking wake you up quick, Blue. I figured this was the best damn way to do it,” He grins at the glare he receives, then continues, “Now, before you say anything, let me just save that sweet goddamn morning breath of yours and say: you're fucking welcome.”

Rick exhales heavily, tossing his body back onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling helplessly as Negan eyes him with a gaze full of amuse.

“I don't wanna go back to school,” Rick whines slightly after he's rolled back into his side, pulling the covers over himself and up to his chin, shutting his eyes to find some peace.

There's some quiet and then Negan says, “Me fucking either,” sounding a lot more tired than he had just a minute ago.

Rick's eyes open again when he hears the groan of the mattress shifting under Negan's weight, when he feels the warmth of Negan nearby.

He's met with hazel eyes, boring into his own, Negan lying on his side, facing Rick.

He's so close, too close for so early in the morning.

The toothbrush is gone. Rick sees it on the nightstand.

“Should we skip?” Negan asks, an honest question, “My parents are at work already, they wouldn't know. Plus, Lucille works at the office, she can fuck with the rosters and shit so we don't get counted absent.”

Rick runs the idea over in his head, and is so gravely tempted.

But in the end, he knows he can't risk it. If he does get counted absent for a class, they call his aunt.

If they call his aunt, maybe she'll come looking for him. He doesn't want that.

Shit, maybe she's been looking for him all this time; It has been over a week, after all.

But he doubts it. He highly highly doubts it.

“No,” Rick says, ultimately, “We should just go.”

Negan looks disappointed, but nods.

“Well,” he says, rolling carefully out of the bed, “Guess you better get ready then.”

Rick sits up again, this time swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, a promise that this time he means it.

“Guess I better,” he agrees.

Negan watches Rick for a second as the boy walks over to his dresser, hand hesitant on the handle before he looks over at Negan.

“Is it okay if I borrow a shirt? All of mine are dirty.”

“That's okay.”

With that, Rick opens the drawer, sticking his hand in and picking a shirt at random.

Negan watches as Rick slides off his old shirt, watches the way the toned muscles in his arms and back pinch and flex so intricately, creating lovely ridges and dips in his pale skin.

 _Goddammit,_ Negan thinks, _he's fucking hot._

Then he puts the new shirt on and it fits him big.

For a second Negan is embarrassed, but then he reminds himself it's because he's tall. The shirt fits him big because Negan's taller than Rick.

Everyone's a unique size and shape, Negan tries to remind himself. So what if he's bigger than Rick? That's fine. God, he hopes that's fine.

He distracts himself from those thoughts by concentrating on how cute Rick looks in his shirt- in his basketball shirt, with _his_ name and _his_ number on it.

“What?” Rick asks, slightly sheepish when he turns around and sees Negan openly gawking at him.

Negan blinks, looks up at Rick's eyes, giving his head a single clearing shake.

“Nothing,” he says, “Fucking nothing.”

Rick gives Negan an odd look, but lets it go, “Alright.”

Negan looks at Rick a second longer then shakes his head again, turning to grab his backpack from the corner of the room and slinging it over his bare shoulder.

“Well, guess we better hit this fucking bitch of a road, huh?”

Rick holds back a laugh, because Negan's still shirtless.

“You're driving?” Rick asks.

Negan huffs, making his way to the front door, “Well you sure as shit aren't, Mr. Let's-go-ninety-on-a-forty-five, I've-only-driven-three-times Jr.”

Rick follows behind him, waits until Negan has his hand on the knob to have mercy on him.

He stops the boy with a hand on the shoulder, warm skin on warm skin.

“You really gonna go to school without a shirt on, smart ass? … Also, I'm hungry.”

Negan stares at Rick's hand for a second too long before he opens the door anyways.

“Maybe I fucking will…” He chides, walking out into the mid morning sun with his bare chest on display, a few meek hairs glittering in the light- a man in the making. “... Do you want McDonald's?”

Rick rolls his eyes, but follows a shirtless Negan into his truck.

“Yeah, sure.”

Then things shift into quiet- save for their laughing when the cashier at McDonald's eyes a shirtless Negan funnily, or the murmuring of Lucille's playlist- and they both don't really speak until they get to school.

“You think my nipples are on par with the school’s sexist as fuck dress code?” Negan asks.

“Maybe,” Rick shrugs, mindlessly sipping his orange juice as they walk into the visitors building together, sarcastically tacking on, “I mean, as long as they're not girl nipples, right?”

“Shit, Rick. I guess you're fucking right,” Negan laughs, and when he goes to open the second door into the school, it's locked. “Aw, fuck! Fucking great!”

“It's just locked,” Rick says, then he sips, and adds, “Call Lucille or something. She works mornings at the office on Monday's, right?”

“Yeah, but students aren't allowed to open the visitor’s doors. An administrator has to do it.”

“Wow, we’re eighteen and we can't open doors?”

“That's high school for ya, Ricky.”

Rick sighs, “So let's just go in through the band hall. Isn't that what everyone does?”

“Yeah, that what everyone does when they're trying to _leave,_ not go in. The band hall is sacred fucking ground. If you're not a band student, you can only go out, not in.”

“I’m a band student,” Rick counters.

Negan shoots him down, “Then you're missing lessons right now, and if you go in late, or try to sneak pass, Ms. Peletier is gonna chew your ass the fuck out. I've seen her do it, and I'm not even in band… Plus, I really don't wanna walk all the way to the fucking band hall. I'm barely getting a hold of my goddamn land legs as it fucking is.”

“So let's just cut through all the other buildings, then.”

“And face all the fucking school cops? No fucking way. One look at my tits and I'm ass up on the ground, hands crossed behind my back, face in the mud. _And_ I didn't bring my school ID. So they'll think I'm a fucking intruder- it's just… no. No way in hell.”

Rick sighs again, heavier this time, “So what, we’re just gonna-”

“ _Look, there's Simon!_ ” Negan shouts, pointing through the window of the door at a figure walking past.

Rick looks, recognizes Simon as the asshole who praised Negan on his move of tripping Glenn in the middle of a busy hallway.

“ _Simon!!!! SIMON!!”_ Negan yells, pounding the glass with his palm, shaking the locked door.

“Yeah, and _that's_ not gonna get us in deep shit with an administrator, but cutting through the buildings is?” Rick says, rhetorically.

“Simon's Dad _is_ an administrator, Rick,” Negan informs, and Simon is walking towards the door, “ _We_ are in the fucking clear. Crystal fucking clear. Like the purest, virgin waters on the face of this god forsaken earth.”

Rick tilts his head, a vague acknowledgment of Negan's words, a weary consideration of them.

But he doesn't like the look on Simon's face as he opens the door and scans both him and Negan.

“Well well well, what do we have here, Negan baby?” He asks, face worn with a loose gleeful smile as he looks over the taller boys chest.

Then he looks over at Rick, studying his shirt. Negan's shirt.

Simon smirks.

“Shut the fuck up, and move out of the way,” Negan says, gesturing at Rick to follow him, “We’re late enough as it is.”

Negan walks through the door, and Simon lets him, but he stops Rick with a hand on the chest and that disgusting smirk that makes Rick's fist clench and twitch.

Rick grits his teeth and swats Simons hand away, trying to walk past him- but the hand returns.

Rick looks up at the teen with hostility in his eyes, and Simon can smell it.

“Aw Negan, this one's feisty!” He chimes, eyes never leaving Rick's. “This one's _real_ feisty.”

“Simon, fuck off,” Negan says, voice placid but maybe just a tad shy, and he grabs Rick's hand, pulling him forward and away from Simon, “He has to walk me to class.”

He takes in a quiet gasp when he feels Rick's fingers twine with his, slotting together warmly, and he looks up at Rick, who isn't looking back at him.

“No need for that,” Simon says, eyes fixated on their joined hands, “I’ll take ya. Need to talk to you, anyways.”

Negan looks back at Rick, eyes full of apology.

“You'll be okay?” The boy asks, just for Negan to hear, side eyeing Simon before he fully pays attention to Negan and his face.

Rick thinks Simon is like all the other kids who used to bully Negan when they were little.

“Course I’ll be okay,” Negan says quietly, and Rick nods, fingers loosening around Negan's.

Negan squeezes his hand lightly before he lets go, watches Rick as he walks towards his class.

Then he turns back to Simon.

“It's about fucking time, Negan. I was starting to rot into the floor back there, sweet cheeks. Watching the two of you just about gave me diabetes!”

Negan rolls his eyes, jaw tightening ever so slightly, but he doesn't let Simon see it.

Maybe he fucking should. Maybe the dude would get the fucking hint that he's annoying as shit.

Negan follows Simon to the library, and the hand that had been holding Rick's still feels fuzzy and crowded, like maybe Rick's warm palm is still pressed against his.

Negan and Simon sit at a table in the corner, facing each other. Things are silent and tense, and Simon has this look in his eyes like he's better than Negan.

Negan tries his best copy that look, to imitate it to a tee then ten times better.

“Who is that kid?” Simon asks finally, “Seen you walking around with him more than once.”

Negan's eyes narrow, a slight defense on Rick's behalf washing over him, “His name is Rick. He's the sports trainer for the Varsity team.”

Simon hmphs, smirk returning.

“So he's been nursing you, huh?”

Negan catches the innuendo. Any other day and he would slap his knee, snort a laugh, maybe bump Simon's fist for that one.

But he's spent a week at home with Rick and his parents and no one else except for the occasions Lucille came around.

He's almost forgotten how to act at school.

So instead of playing along, Negan stays silent.

“You two were late,” Simon continues, “You're shirtless. He's _wearing_ your shirt.”

More silence.

Simons smirk morphs into a grin.

“You held his hand- fingers twined and all like some cute faggy couple on Glee. You dick-whipped, Negan? You got _him_ dick-whipped? Are you two both equally dick-whipped over each other? These things I've gotta fucking know!”

 _Faggy_.

Negan has to stop his face from curling into a grimace.

“Watch your fucking mouth, Simon,” Negan warns, voice hardened and pent up, “I don't like how you're fucking talking to me.”

The grin grows.

“So you got _him_ dick-whipped, huh?”

“No,” Negan says tersely, firmly, “I don't.”

Simon raises a brow, “You lyin’, Negan?”

Negan says nothing.

“Cause if you are, well… That boy- what's his name? Rick?” Negan doesn't like the way the name sounds coming from Simon's mouth. That alone makes him grit his teeth, makes his fists clench beneath the table, “Anywho, that boy Rick is just adorable. A real biter, I think. I’d _love_ to take that sweet little ass for a ride-”

That's all it takes and Negan bursts, “Yeah, we’re fuckin’ fucking, okay?? So don't you fucking talk about him that fucking way, you got me? You hearing me loud and fucking clear?”

Simon is unfazed by Negan's emotions, “No, I hear you, alright. It's just-” Simon laughs a short laugh that makes Negan feel inferior, makes him feel false, “I mean, you say you are, then you say you're not. I don't know what to believe! If you're really fucking him, I'm gonna need some details.”

Negan swallows, look down at the table, “What do you wanna know?”

“Is he gay?” Simon asks, and as soon as he does, Negan freezes, eyes going wide as he remembers Rick isn't out yet, and he just said they were fucking, “Does he swing both ways?”

Negan fish mouths a second, looking off to the side, rubbing the back of his neck then scrubbing a hand against his faint faint stubble, trying to find words to say.

In the end, he puts the mask back on, plays the role he was meant to play.

Negan scoffs, shrugs, smirks, leans back into the wooden and creaky library chair.

“Who knows? That shit doesn't fucking matter to me… What matters is that I led him to my fucking dick like a horse to fucking water. _That's_ the shit that fucking matters.”

Simon raises a brow, gives an amused laugh full of pride and calm, “Oh, but did you make him drink?”

Negan puts his hands behind his head, legs spreading wide with manliness, smirk doing the same, “I made him fucking choke.”

Simon wheezes now, extending his fist out to be bumped, “My man.”

Negan bumps it.

Just a few tables away, Glenn sits, hiding behind a child development textbook, eyeing Simon and Negan in the midst of their conversation, ears stock full of awful information he knows he has to tell Rick.

Once Simon and Negan leave the library, Negan makes a beeline for the nurse, disregarding class.

“What's wrong with you, son? Is it your leg?” The nurse asks.

“I feel sick,” Negan says truthfully, and his stomach churns.

He outed Rick.

He promised Rick his secret was safe with him and he went on and told it.

The nurse eyes him carefully, but sees the green tinge of dullness beneath his skin.

“Well, son, you know we're not allowed to give you any medication unless authorized by your parents. Maybe just… lie down on the cot over there until it passes.”

“Okay,” Negan says, and he lies down until the nurse kicks him out, staring up at fluorescent lights and asking himself why the fuck he couldn't stop being such an asshole.

_Because it's kept you safe, he gets in answer._

_Because it's made you loved, he gets in answer._

_Because it's made you forget._

But forget about who? About what? He asks his own thoughts.

 _Forget about Rick_ , he gets in answer, _how his face looks- that's how you've been able to walk past him in the halls these last few years and not feel a thing._

_It's made you forget about life before high school_

_It's made you forget about how you used to be bullied, how you are the bully now._

_It's made you who you are today._

Yeah, well maybe that person sucks, Negan thinks back.

-

“Why are you acting so weird?” Rick asks Negan after the bell for lunch rings, and they're walking down the halls, letting the wave of students flow past them.

“Weird?” Negan asks tensely, “I'm not acting fucking weird? Why in the fat hell would you say that?”

Rick rolls his eyes, because it's clear.

“Because you're acting like _that!_ All weird and shit.”

“I don't know what you're talking about.”

“Yeah, alright,” Rick says, brow quirking when he sees Negan walking the opposite way of the cafeteria, “Where are you going?”

Negan’s steps falter for a second as he searches for something to say, looking back at Rick.

“I'm going to get lunch with Lucille.”

Rick is quiet for a second, waiting for Negan to maybe invite him.

When Negan doesn't say anything, Rick tries not to sound offended when he says, “Oh, well… I guess I'll see you sixth period.. or wait, I don't have you sixth, I mean seventh... I'll see you seventh.”

Negan can hear the disappointment in his voice though.

He wishes he could tell Rick it's not true, that he's just gonna sit in his truck and drive around because he can't stand the guilt that fills him whenever he looks at Rick's innocent face, smiling at him, looking at him with trust and comfort.

All he sees is the boy crying on his shoulder, sleeping in his bed.

He sees an origami bird folded from a letter.

_My parents are getting loud again._

“Yeah,” Negan says weakly, “See you seventh.”

Then they both go their separate ways; Negan walking out the double doors and Rick getting in line for his lunch.

Normally, at their table, it's him and Maggie and Michonne and Glenn. Negan is treading on becoming a regular, though things sometimes get very tense.

Usually he'll sit with his teammates, then crutch around their table once or twice, say a word to Rick and smirk at Glenn and Maggie and wink at Michonne.

Sometimes he'll sit down, too.

Today's not the case.

Today, Rick grabs his lunch and goes to his table to see it's empty.

That's when he remembers Maggie and Michonne are off at some event for student council. He's not sure where Glenn might be.

That means Rick is by himself, stuffing fry after saltless fry into his mouth, staring at nothing in particular; alone again, naturally- like that one song by Gilbert Sullivan. His mom used to sing it.

It's awkward and kind of intense, sitting by yourself in a school cafeteria, being silent and hearing all the voices and tones around you merge into just one white noise. It feels like you can never hone in on just one voice, because not one is directed towards you.

Or maybe one is.

“Rick,” Glenn says, voice urgent, like he'd been saying Rick's name for a while. The boys looks up at the sophomore, and the sophomore says, a pitiful look on his face, “I… I need to tell you something.”

-

Negan drives to Creme Cup by himself, no Lucille in sight, because if there's one thing he knows how to do right most of the time, it's eat his feelings.

When Dwight sees him he doesn't wait for Negan to give his order, or say anything about his lack of a shirt, just starts up and says, “Dude, how's your forehead? Did I leave a scar? Man, I'm so sorry.”

At first Negan doesn't know what the hell he's talking about, but then he remembers and his hand goes to touch the place where the wound once laid, a scar there now in remembrance.

“Yeah, man, I'm fine. I'm good as hell. Just- I'm just... just fine,” he assures.

Dwight eyes him funnily, but shakes off his irrational concerns to take Negan's order.

Negan sits in a nearby booth just inches away from the counter as he waits for his food, his good leg bouncing up and down like the thoughts in his brain.

They call out his number and Negan's standing in less than a second, ready to take his food and leave.

But then Dwight says, voice quiet, “Hey man. I said I'd make it up to you, so…” he looks around warily, side to side. Then he grabs a bag from under the counter, the brown paper crinkling as he opens it up.

Then he stuffs two seran wrapped brownies into the bag that holds Negan's order.

“These’ll make the food taste _a lot_ better.”

Negan huffs a laugh through his nose, though it's quiet and without smile.

“Thanks man,” he says, and then he's leaving out the door.

He sits in his truck parked in the Creme Cup parking lot, warm food in his lap.

In the end, all he eats is one of the two brownies.

Then he throws the greasy bag to the floor and drives around, waiting for the substance to kick in.

Maybe it's not the safest thing to do, but he'd much rather put himself in danger than go face Rick again.

He drives back to school when there's just ten minutes left, because he knows there's no track practice today and so Rick is going straight home with him.

Negan hopes the pot brownie will make him forget his fucking shame, but all he's got is fudgey dough between his teeth and a hyperintense awareness of the food sitting bagged in the floor.

When he gets to the school, he parks in the student parking lot and waits for the bell to ring, waits for Rick to find the truck.

Ten minutes pass and there's no sign of him.

Fifteen and still nothing, and now the lot is mostly clear.

Negan thinks maybe he does have practice today, so he turns in his seat to get a glimpse of the football field near the far end of the lot.

It's empty.

He looks around, trying to find Rick's familiar form, when he finds it- bowlegs and all- walking on the side of the highway by himself.

Rick's so far away he looks to be the size of an ant, but Negan just knows it's him.

So he puts the car in drive and peels out of the parking lot in no time.

When he gets to Rick, he's rounded a corner into a neighborhood, passing by a park.

Negan slows down to match Rick, lowers the passengers window.

Rick knows it's Negan, doesn't dare meet his gaze.

“So… so you're going back to your house?” Negan asks.

He doesn't know why he's playing dumb. He knows why Rick is walking. Surely Rick has heard by now.

“Yeah, I'm going home,” Rick says harshly.

Again, Negan doesn't know why he's playing dumb, why he's still trying to act innocent as he asks, “Why?”

Rick keeps walking and Negan keeps following, until suddenly Rick's legs come to a stop and so does Negan's truck.

“ _Why?_ ” Rick yells, finally meeting Negan's eyes, gaze full of scorn, lips curled into a disgusted scowl. “Why do you fucking _think_ , dumbass?! Because you're a liar! You're a stupid fucking liar who doesn't think about anything or anyone else unless they help you look cool! Because you told Simon we were _fucking_! You said you wouldn't tell people about me, and then you told Simon we were fucking: you double lied!”

When Rick is finished, he's heaving for his breath, suffocating with rage and betrayal.

“Rick, I- he was, he was saying shit about you-”

“I don't care what he says, okay? I care about you, I expected more from _you_ , okay? Not him,” Rick sighs, face melting into deeper disappointment, “I don't know why. Maybe because we used to be best friends, or because you used to never break our promises, but obviously that's changed. Obviously you've changed, and you don't give a shit.” His sad look stays a moment more before it shifts back into contempt, and he says, “...And I would _never_ fuck you. Ever. Not in a million goddamn years, not in another universe, not even if you fucking paid me. _Never.”_

Negan only takes one thing from that whole speech.

“You think I don't care about you?”

Rick doesn't answer, just crosses his arms and turns away, walking again.

Negan takes a moment to drive after him, face and body setting hard.

“You don't think I fucking care about you, Rick?”

Still silence.

Negan hits his steering wheel in frustration, hand piercing with pain as he yells, “ _Fucking answer me, dammit!_ ”

“ _No!”_ Rick answers back immediately, stopping again, which means Negan does too.

Rick's jaw is trembling with anger.

“Look at you,” he says quietly, lined with that same disgust, “You couldn't bear to even look me in the eye at school. Now you're high- you're driving high, trying to get me in your truck so you can drive me to your house and do what? Try to _fuck me?!_ Try to get some sort of fucking proof for Simon, some fucking Pervy memorabilia for both of you to fawn and drool over and laugh at? Fuck you. You don't care about me. You just care about having sex with me, and I knew it.”

Negan has to look away from Rick. He can't look at the boy anymore.

He swallows, looking down at his throbbing hand, clenching it around the wheel, feeling the pain that moves beneath his skin at the movement.

He can already see the purple bruise that'll sprout from busted veins and popped capillaries.

With the weed in his system he can taste the colors, too. They taste like the smell of stale, cold French fries and greasy dive burgers with pickles and onions.

It weeps all around in his truck, the taste of the smell of.

Negan knows he can't prove he cares about Rick, but he does; he's just stupid and an asshole, because he cares too much about what people think about him.

“I do care,” Negan says, nodding. There's no knowing if Rick can hear with the softness of his voice, “about you.”

Then he drives off, leaving Rick alone.

-

Rick gets home, and only his aunt is there.

She doesn't acknowledge him, doesn't see him. She's talking on the phone, sitting at the kitchen table, paying bills, looking haggard.

Rick goes to his room, thanks every atom that it's empty.

He settles into his bed, burying himself beneath the covers though he's fully dressed, and he falls asleep thinking about Negan.

Then he wakes up to something hitting his head hard.

He hisses, turns to find the cause, And there he sees Louie, dribbling a basketball- that's what hit his head- at a slow, daunting pace.

“Happy homecoming, faggot. You miss me?”

Rick swallows harshly, bringing a hand to his tender forehead.

“No,” he says, firmly packing the single word with more attitude than he's ever allowed to seep into his aunt's apartment.

Then he goes back beneath the covers.

He hears Louie hmph.

“I could say the same about you, chump. Sincerely, I could. So could my Mom. Didn't even notice you were gone. I told her, too, I said Looks like Ricky's finally left! She laughed and she said, Oh finally!”

Louie smirks, “It was like the good old days. Before you came and fucked everything up the ass like you faggots do. Before your Mom dropped you off here like the useless shithole of a kid you are. Before you killed my fucking dad. It was happy days for us, Ricky.”

Rick is quiet and careful as he says, “I didn't kill your Dad.” No guilt riddles him.

“You did,” Louie insists, seething, “You gave him the keys. You knew he was drunk.”

“I didn't know,” Rick says, shaking slightly. He's not sure if it's because he's cold or because he's angry, but he pulls on his blanket tighter.

Louie persists, saying calmly, surely, “You killed him, Rick. Now because of you I don't have a Dad. But you don't care, do you? Because you don't have either of your parents. They didn't want you. Your Dad just wanted to fuck up your Mom and your Mom wanted to lay around and lose her mind about it. They didn't want you. No one does. Because you're a fucking fruit _and_ a murderer. Because, because. No one wants you, _period_.”

 _That's not true,_ Rick wants to say, _and your Dad got what was coming to him_.

That's what he wants to say, but he can't. It just boils within him like a pathetic, poor man's stew.

And he feels tears form, growing fatter and fatter until he feels like he can't breathe and they come to fruition on his cheeks.

Still he thinks, _that's not true,_ because Negan does.

Negan wants him.

Sure, maybe he just wants to fuck Rick and that's it, but he wants him in some way.

That's gotta count for something.

Louie says some more things, then he leaves the room, and then the apartment altogether.

Rick waits until he hears his aunt has gone to bed, and then he leaves, too.

He walks to Negan's house, just two blocks away.

-

When Negan gets home, it seems the effects of the brownie have only gotten stronger.

He yells out to his Mom that he'll be sleeping, then he hides away in his room, so she won't see him. One look in his eyes and she'd know.

But Negan can't sleep.

He feels confused from the cocktail of being both happy from the dope and sad from his thoughts of Rick, as well as paranoid and hyper aware of his senses- again, thanks to the dope.

He has no idea what to do, so he strips off his jeans, slips on some boxers and watches a movie: The Perks of Being a Wallflower.

He had discovered this movie just after Rick had left, and it just about changed his life, he thinks. Or well, it largely influenced it.

Then he read the book, _actually_ read it, and it was even better than the movie.

Charlie always reminded him of Rick: timid, but a thinker. Quiet, but so raucous on the inside.

Traumatized.

Negan could always tell there was so many things contained inside of Rick.

Patrick reminded Negan of how Negan always wanted to be: loud and unabashed. He was pained but unafraid.

Also he was hot. Negan wanted to be hot, too.

He also wanted a cool truck like the one Sam and Patrick drove. He told his Dad this and on his sixteenth birthday, he got one.

Negan loves his parents. They always listen. He's so lucky.

This movie always made him feel so happy, but as it eventually unfolded, Negan always felt so devastated.

Charlie had to wait so long to get out of high school and his friend were Seniors who were already leaving.

Who would he hang out with at school once he began his sophomore year?

Who would he sit with at lunch?

Who would drive him around and show him cool songs?

Who would carry on Punk Rocky once everyone was gone?

What if Sam had never gotten her SAT scores high enough to get into Penn State?

Why isn't there at least one kid in their group who doesn't want to go to college?

What happened with Brad and his Dad?

How does Charlie cope with his trauma?

Does it ever truly get better for him?

All those questions never get answered, and each time Negan watches the movie, he only acquires more.

Negan watches the movie three times.

He's in the middle of the fourth time when he hears a knock on his window.

He's still a little high, and his paranoia hits him like a train at the meek _taptaptap_ against the glass.

Still he puts his laptop away and gets up to check it out, because he's not a pussy.

Behind the curtain, he sees Rick, and he can tell the boys been crying. His eyes are puffy and extra blue.

Negan unlocks the window, shoves it up.

They look at each other for a while in silence, then Negan speaks.

“Go to the door,” he says.

Rick says nothing, but obliges.

Negan goes to meet him.

Seeing Rick up close reminds him of what he did, and guilt wraps his heart.

Rick's face doesn't look as hard as it had in the afternoon after school. Instead he looks defeated, face soft and puffy like weak mush.

“You okay?” Negan asks, and it's a stupid question because obviously hes been crying, and he feels troubled enough to go to Negan.

Rick shakes his head no, letting out a ragged breath.

Negan thinks, then asks, voice gentle, “Are your.. are your parents getting loud again?”

Rick looks up at Negan, slight baffle showing in his eyes, like he's surprised Negan has quoted him word for word.

Then he flickers, swallowing.

“Yeah,” Rick lies, an uncertain curl to his voice.

Negan watches as another tear slips down Rick's cheek.

He sighs, “Blue, I’m… I didn't tell you I was sorry. I am. I really am so fucking sorry, and.. I do care about you. A lot. Same as I always fucking have.”

Rick breathes, looks at Negan's young face, drawn in lines way older than eighteen. But some of those lines are still eight years old.

“Can I come in?” Rick says, ultimately.

Negan answers by stepping out of his way and letting him enter.

They walk down the corridor, and just before they reach the turn to Negan's room, he asks Rick, “Are you hungry?”

Rick shakes his head no, though he hasn't eaten since lunch. Eating feels like too much work.

“Do you want some tea?” Negan asks, once they've reached his room, “I can make you some tea.”

Rick sits on the edge of Negan's bed.

“What kind?”

“Chamomile.”

 _Chamomile_ , Rick thinks.

He remembers being little, sleeping over at Negan's house. When they couldn't sleep, Negan's mom made them chamomile tea. If they were upset, she made them chamomile tea. If they were sick, chamomile tea.

It was always the answer, and it always seemed to work.

“Okay… sure,” Rick answers.

Negan nods, goes to make the tea. While he's gone, Rick settles in.

He strips down to his t-shirt and boxers, then slips between Negan's sheets.

A breath of relief slips through his lips, and instantly he feels better as his body sinks into the mattress.

Negan comes back, hands Rick the small cup, saying, “Careful. It's hot.”

Rick takes a cautious sip, feels the warmth slightly scald his tongue as it takes its path down into his body.

Maybe it's some placebo effect, but it works. It solves problems, and it makes him warm.

After a few more sips, Rick sets his cup down.

Negan takes that as a sign to leave, so he goes to the door.

“Stay,” Rick calls out, before he can turn the knob.

“... What?”

“Stay with me,” Rick says.

“Like… like in the same bed?”

“Yeah.”

“O…kay.”

Then Negan gets into his bed, lies bone stiff on the very edge, careful to give Rick space.

Rick's brows furrow in amuse before he takes it upon himself to bridge the gap and scoot in closer, throwing some of his blanket over Negan and placing his head on Negan's chest.

He tangles a leg with Negan's good one, feeling their thighs touch with a warm sear, and the boy gets even stiffer if that's possible.

Rick runs a hand over his bare stomach, stops just below his belly button. “Calm down,” he says, voice quiet and smooth, “Relax.”

Negan breathes out a shuddery breath.

“What are you doing, Rick?”

Rick throws Negan's arm over his shoulder, makes Negan cuddle him deeper.

“You want me, don't you? Wanna fuck me?”

“Rick,” Negan chokes, “I'm not- I'm not trying to, I'm not doing this to get in your pa-”

“Shut up and answer me,” Rick says, lifting his head to look Negan in the eye, “You want me, don't you? You wanna fuck me?”

Negan blinks in a fluster, blushes furiously, and nods because he's not gonna lie.

Rick smiles, lays his head back down on Negan's chest.

“Well then you better enjoy this,” Rick says, “Because this is the closest I'll ever let you get with me.”

When those words meet the air, Negan's body loosens and he melds into Rick, bringing his arm to life to pull the boy further into him, hitching Rick's leg further up his own as he places his chin on top of the boy’s head.

Negan doesn't say it, but he thinks his actions do:

_I’ll take whatever you'll let me have._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you all for reading! i hope you all enjoyed and as always, feedback and constructive criticism are more than welcome.  
> happy holidays to all of u!! thank u for supporting me <333


	8. Fuschia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: mentions and somewhat graphic depictions of domestic violence and an episode of child abuse.  
> please read with caution.

Rick thinks about that day a lot. He could think about it every waking moment, if he let himself.

He thinks about that day a lot.

Sometimes he dreams about it, and his dreams they dramatize that night. They demonize it further.

Fortunately, those dreams are rare, but when they do happen, he’ll shoot up straight in bed, heaving like the breaths of air he’s taking are stolen- and it's not easy to make his breathing go back to normal.

And that same night he sleeps in Negan’s arms, he has that dream, and he wakes up hyperventilating.

_Did you make him drink?_

_I made him choke._

In a panic, he removes himself from Negan, giving himself some space.

“Rick?” Negan calls, quiet and confused, having just departed from sleep. Then he wakes up a little more and hears the boy gasping, sits up and sees him cowered in the far corner of the bed, eyes wide as his body trembles. “Rick- Hey, Rick, what’s wrong? Are you- do you have.. asthma?”

Negan voice is shrouded with fear, urgent and startled, ridiculous but serious.

Rick tries taking a deep breath, like maybe he was trying to speak, but it just sounds like it’s choking him and the noise frightens Negan further.

“Rick, I- I’m gonna ask you to breathe, alright?” Negan keeps his tone even and cool as he moves in to bridge the gap between them.

In retrospect, maybe that wasn’t the right thing to do, but he just did what he felt was right, and Rick reaches out for him with shaky limbs.

His skin is slick with sweat but it doesn’t deter Negan, and he pulls the boy halfway into his lap.

“Breathe, Blue. Can you do that for me? ...It's like ABC, one two three, right? C’mon, blue.. you got it.”

Rick responds with shallow breaths.

“C’mon, Blue,” Negan repeats, humming the words gently into Rick’s sweaty curls, “Nice and deep. Like this-’ Negan breathes in heavily, wholly filling his diaphragm, then exhales with all the world's time on his side. “Just, just copy me. Take your time. We’ve got time, Blue. We’ve got all the time in the world.”

Rick tries his best to copy Negan, and though his breaths are shaky and jagged, he doesn’t sound like he’s choking anymore.

It takes a good while for Rick to calm down; a whole lot of breathing. Negan almost falls asleep with all the deep breaths, eyes fluttering lowly as his chin becomes heavier on Rick's head.

But then he feels a hand squeeze at his arm, and he notices the evenness of Rick’s breath.

He reciprocates the touch, feels how Rick’s hairs are still standing on edge.

“You better?” Negan asks, hand rubbing warmth and consolation into Rick’s forearms.

Rick nods slowly, and it makes Negan's head shift and fall away.

He turns Rick in his arms, studies his face, and he looks utterly haggard, even in the forgiving moonlight.

His skin is sallow and sweaty, and his eyes are red and puffy, stringy curls clinging carelessly to his forehead.

The sight makes Negan frown, and he combs the hair back with his fingers, becoming alarmed when he comes in contact with a bump and Rick winces.

Negan immediately thinks the worst as he smooths back Rick’s hair and turns the bedside lamp on, all to get a better look.

It doesn’t look as bad as it feels. It's not too noticeable, at least.

“Who did this to you?” Negan asks, trying to remain calm for Rick’s sake, “Who hurt you, Rick? I’ll fucking-“ he takes a grounding breath or two, continues, “They won’t get away with this shit. I’ll kick their sorry ass.”

Rick takes a while to find his voice.

“Don’t worry about it,” is all he says, the words feeling numb as they leave the hole in his tingling face.

Negan assesses those words, ready to argue, but then it hits him.

“Rick… did… Did one of your parents do that to you?”

His voice is meek, scared but daring as he treads shallow waters.

Negan notices how Rick’s face crumbles, how he sucks in a sharp breath, and he’s afraid he’s broken Rick’s numb peace.

“No,” Rick answers brokenly, crinkling his eyes shut like it’ll make the images in his mind fall blank and disappear. Then, and it shocks even Rick himself, he admits, “I don’t… I don’t live with my parents.”

Negan’s brows furrow.

“You don’t live with your parents?”

Rick shakes his head no.

Negan nods, looking down at his bed sheets as he lets that sink in. He doesn’t want to bombard Rick with questions. Especially not now

But his curiosity reigns on.

He looks back up at Rick and asks, “Why?”

Rick tells him why.

Negan nods.

“That night… the night you left… What happened?”

Rick tells him what happened.

But he doesn’t tell him the whole story.

-

Rick’s mom is from Texas but moved to California. She was so young when she moved that she can’t remember what age she was when it happened. California was all she knew.

Warm air and blue skies with the softest, whitest clouds just lounging about, gliding so languidly across the blue expanse.

Beaches that made it seem as if the sky had met the floor. If the sky was murky and green and rocking with waves.

She felt like she could swim all the way across the universe and meet all the other people on the other side of the world. That was her goal every summer, as soon as the calendar marked June. She never made it very far from the shore, but it was always so fun.

One summer, when she had just become old enough to wear makeup, her friend Janet woke her up from her sunbathing on the sand and said,

“Cindy! Cindy, wake up! Look what I got!”

Janet rifled through her purse, pulled out a small silver tube.

She opened it up, twisted the base, and this bullet of the brightest pink Cindy had ever seen suddenly appeared.

It was blinding like the sun, and Cindy let out a gasp because she had to have it.

After some convincing, Janet let her try it on.

Seeing her reflection in Janet’s compact mirror, her sun kissed skin highlighted by this juicy pink, Cindy fell in love.

On her way home that evening, she stopped by the drugstore and bought her own tube of a gaudy lipstick named Funky Fuschia, the same lipstick Janet had.

Then a few summers later, her parents asked her, “Cindy, how would you feel about vacationing in Texas?”

In turn, she cried. She was eighteen but she cried like a baby. That was how she felt.

But still she went, because she had to. Her parents weren’t asking as much as they were telling.

There, in the blazing, humid heat that lies in the depths of South Texas, she met John.

John was from North Texas, but had moved down with his family because his father had found work with oil.

That was the summer they fell in love.

John was sweet. Quiet, but sweet.

He made Cindy laugh, made her smile. He was kind, and he payed attention to her like all the California boys never did, and that was enough for her to want to color his cheeks in lip prints of the brightest pink that she loved so dearly.

Cindy was fresh out of high school, contemplating whether or not to go to college, when she came to a decision.

“Don’t go to college,” John told her, “Girls as pretty as you don’t need to go to college. I can take care of you. My Dad is asking the company for another position for me, I’ll be working by the time fall comes around.”

Cindy stayed in Texas.

Her parents said if she did they would never forgive her.

Still she did it anyways, and everything was fine and dandy for a good long while.

They were happy and in love- whatever love was- and when Cindy was twenty four, she became pregnant with her first child.

John found out it was a boy, and he was so elated he started crying tears of joy.

It was the happiest moment of their life, meeting Rick. All those hours of pain disappeared at the snap of a finger the second Cindy heard that baby cry, the second she saw that little red baby covered in grime and goo, puffy eyelids squinted shut as he wailed and wailed.

That moment was worth all the pain in the world.

Everything continued to be good after that, maybe even better than before.

But then things started adding up.

Diapers, formula, baby food, a crib, a rocker, mobiles, clothes that would only last a month before little Ricky grew out of them, teething toys, regular toys- the list goes on and on.

The expenses were endless, and with only one breadwinner- who didn’t win that much bread to begin with- things were tight and tense.

Soon they started fighting about money. Every fight was always about money.

One day, they realized they couldn’t afford their house in the city anymore, that they had to move to the faraway suburbs.

So that’s what they did, and they did it before Rick had to be enrolled in school. He may have been five, maybe closer to six.

Rick was indifferent to leaving. Despite his young age, he knew this decision was final, no matter how hard he cried or begged or whined.

It didn’t help that his Mom talked to him about this town like it was heaven. Like it was the best place on earth.

She was just trying to soothe him, and maybe convince herself that the move wasn’t all that bad while she was at it.

When they got there, Rick noticed how much smaller their house was. How both his parents seemed underwhelmed by its appearance. How it had less rooms. How it looked dusty and how the floorboards creaked even with his tiny steps.

But at least there was pretty flowers bordering the front porch, Rick remembered, and without his parents permission, he ventured outside to go see them.

That’s when he heard wheels on asphalt, and the sound of a metal scooter hitting the floor.

He turned and saw a kid lying wounded on the street.

Intrigued and concerned, he walked over to the kid.

As they talked, Rick noticed how the stranger child was in pain, and how he was disoriented- he even said Rick’s name was Blue.

The stranger child named Negan ended up passing out, but as soon as he woke up, they hit it off just fine.

They easily became friends, playing in Negan’s back and front yard and in his treehouse and inside his garage and on his trampoline and with all the toys he had in his room.

Rarely did they ever go over to Rick’s house. Rick’s Mom always insisted they be at Negan’s because _oh! the house is too dirty! you kids can’t be coming in and out and in and out!_ but that was no problem with Negan’s Mom, because Cindy had confided in her the real reason why she didn’t want them at Rick’s house..

(Later, as in at the age of eighteen, Rick finally figures it out. She didn’t want kids around that type of energy and air if they didn’t have to be.)

When kindergarten began, Rick and Negan were both excited to find out they were in the same class. They weren’t so excited to find out that kids could be mean.

Rick didn’t have to deal with it so much, but Negan did.

And for what? Because he was chubby? And was okay with being chubby? Well, who knows. Those will never be good enough reasons, and after a while, that happy started fading.

Negan started to think, why should I be happy if everyone at school is treating me like I am disgusting? Why should I be okay with being chubby, being fat, if everyone treats it like it’s a disease?

Like that, his self esteem disintegrated bit by bit, until it was just a tissue paper floating above the salty sea water, waiting to be spent completely.

Rick witnessed it all happen, saw the crumbling of Negan from the eve of age six to the age of thirteen.

It was at its worst when they were in the very early stages of puberty.

They must have been somewhere around eleven years old- the age, for them at least, where cooties could no longer hinder them from the opposite sex.

Or rather, for Rick, the same sex. That was around the time he realized his attraction towards boys-  Negan, in particular.

There was just something there. Comfort, mostly. And fun. Rick always had fun with Negan no matter what they were doing. They could be sitting in math class working on equations, sitting in  the dusty seats of that rusty mustang in Negan’s garage and pretending to be racecar drivers, or lying side by side in his bed at the dawn of morning and telling made up stories- anyway, they were never bored together.

Rick was never one to talk a lot, but when he talked to Negan he felt like he could go on for hours. He always wanted it to go on for hours.

Everyone in their grade was beginning to muse about having girlfriends and boyfriends, or having their first kiss.

New hormones were flowing: Girls were growing breasts and some were able to wear mascara or lipgloss now. Boys voices were starting to sound not as squeaky, and their palms were starting to grow hair… figuratively speaking.

Negan started smelling nice, less like socks and more like something Rick could find in a magazine.

Everyone was confessing their crushes to their friends- and if they were brave, sometimes to their crush themselves.

That happened to Rick once, and it was a girl who had a crush on him.

Granted, Lori had already told him once when they were eight, even wrote him a love letter addressing how much she enjoyed Rick’s brown curls and blue eyes.

She just had to tell him once more, he supposed, just to make sure she had been heard.

Still, this time around, Rick didn’t have much to say when she approached him at his locker. At least he didn’t cry again.

He gave Lori a hug, awkwardly thanked her for her admirance, but gently told her that he was actually crushing on someone else.

She took it in a stride, even if she held onto the hug for just a moment too long.

After word got out around school that Lori, the prettiest, smartest, nicest girl in their grade, had a crush on Rick, meek little Rick, Negan started acting funny.

Rick thought maybe he was jealous- and he was, but not in the way Rick wanted him to be.

“I wish someone as pretty as Lori would like me. I'm too ugly,” Negan had said, and his voice was so sad.

“I… I like you,” Rick said, voice hopeful and assuring, looking up at Negan with careful eyes, scared of the boy's reaction to the bomb he just dropped

Negan just smiled, soft but still sad, “Thanks Blue… but you know what I mean.”

 _Yes I know what you mean,_ Rick thought, pining, _I like you I like you I like you._

“I want someone to like me, like… like they wanna kiss me. I wanna be fucking kissed. Is that too much to ask?”

“I’ll kiss you,” Rick said, a little too excitedly, “I- I mean, just so we can- I mean, so you can know what it feels like.”

Negan thought it over, “Do you think it feels the same as kissing a girl?”

Rick blinked nervously, afraid his chance would be blown. “I-I mean, I don’t see why not? Just imagine I’m wearing lip smackers.”

Negan thought some more, then shrugged, “Ok. Let’s kiss.”

“Okay,” Rick nodded frantically, heart rabbiting in his chest, “Yeah. Let’s kiss.”

There, in Negans backyard, up in Negan’s tree house, they shared a kiss. It was quick and short, just a press of the lips, but Rick couldn’t stop smiling after.

They never kissed again after that, but they were both fine with that. Nothing changed, they were still friends, still laughed together and talked together and did homework together.

Negan’s Mom still called him little one and let him stay in her house for days on end.

Negan’s Dad still teased them about the horse and made them pancakes on weekends.

Nothing was weird, or uncomfortable, or different.

But back at home, things were slowly starting to get worse.

They were already bad to begin with. It was hard to sleep with all the yelling; his Mom and Dad didn’t try to hide their fighting anymore.

But that had been it for years, just yelling. Rick got used to it, tried to spend most of his time out of the house to avoid it. There were a whole lot of sleepovers at Negan’s house. He basically lived there.

But after the kiss, things started getting worse.

His Dad started getting violent with his Mom.

Rick saw the bruises, the black eyes, the cuts on her cheeks and the split in her lip, but he never heard or saw it happen because he was always gone.

That helped feed his denial. That and his mothers pitiful excuses.

I rubbed my eye too hard.

I ran into a wall.

I must’ve scratched my face.

I bit my lip too hard.

Don’t worry about me, baby. I’ll be okay.

Then she’d pull out her compact mirror, look past the greens and blues and purples tainting her skin, and swipe that bright fuschia onto her lips, back and forth and back and forth until her lips were caked in color.

Then the conversation was over, and Rick stopped asking questions.

It went on like that for a year, or maybe longer. As the physical violence evolved, the yelling reached retirement.

For a while.

Then Rick’s mom got a job, a caretaker for elderly people around the neighborhood. It was all she could find with just a high school degree that wasn’t a fast food gig, though it paid no more than McDonald’s.

When Rick’s Dad found out, it hurt his manly pride.

He started yelling again, louder and longer. It never seemed to stop, too, even when it wasn’t yelling anymore.

There were venomous questions no louder than a mumble (“So you don’t need me anymore? Think you can keep this house running, put clothes on Rick’s back and food on the table with two hundred dollars every two weeks?” A scoff. “Pathetic.”) and evil, spirit crushing remarks (“Take that fucking lipstick off. You look like a whore.” Cindy shut her compact, the clicking of the action sounding so slow and defeated. She grabbed a napkin off the kitchen table, and blotted her lips, but did not wipe it off. Then she turned her face, got up from her seat and walked away, a single tear falling from just one eye. It had been a while since all the shit John said could make her cry).

Then, one night, Rick was actually home.

Negan’s parents had gone out of town to celebrate the birthday of their son, and stayed overnight.

So he sat in his room and listened to his parents fight. At this point, all the yelling was white noise. It didn’t scare him, he didn’t cry anymore. Somethings he heard his Dad say about his Mom made him angry, because he’d always loved his Mom more than his Dad, always got defensive of her once their arguing became public, but that was it. That was all he felt, usually.

Sometimes, he fantasized about stepping in. About raising his own voice and telling his Dad to shut up. He’d gotten so close to doing it so many times, but never found the courage.

Rick was numb until he heard the startling sound of glass shattering, then fear finally began to settle in his gut and stiffen his bones.

It wasn’t until he heard the sound of his Mother’s cries that the courage came, and he was out of his room and racing down the stairs to the scene.

All of the denial he once held onto went whizzing down the drain as he saw his mother on the ground, and his father on top of her, his hard punches meeting her face again and again, her bloodied face moving to and fro with the force of his fist.

“ _Get off of her!”_ Was all Rick could yell once he found his tongue, and it was nothing like the flagrant, ballsy speeches he would curate in his mind when he thought about this very situation.

He just ran towards his father, yanking the tail of his shirt with what strength his young body had.

It did nothing to move him off of her, but once his Dad felt the tug, he stopped.

Rick thought maybe he stopped because of shame, that maybe hearing his only sons voice had washed all the anger and evil out of him and made him see the light.

But he was wrong.

His father turned, looked at him for a second before his lips curled with contempt.

And then he turned the assault on Rick.

Rick just put his arms up in front of his face and took it.

He always felt like his father resented him for needing so much, for costing so much.

For costing _him_ so much.

He thought maybe if he let his Dad get it all out just this once, he’d never have to get it out anymore. He’d be like new; he’d be a new dad and a new husband. He’d be loving and he’d stop yelling and hitting his Mom, if he just let his Dad have him.

It had to end sometime, right?

And it did, once Cindy scraped herself off the floor, the fire of her motherhood giving her the strength that her bruised and bleeding body could no longer offer.

“You..” she gurgled as she clutched the kitchen table for support, her lips already swelling from multiple splits, blood and saliva filling her mouth, “ _You!”_ She yelled, slurred and angry, as she grabbed a wine glass off the table to defend herself.

John laid back off his son, snapping out of his rage for just a second before he got to his feet.

Rick crawled away into the living room, taking refuge underneath the coffee table in front of the couch.

“Don’t you touch my son, you… coward! You ...spineless.. excuse for a.. man! You…” she couldn’t finish her dazed and garbled speech, because then her husband was charging at her, and when he was one step away, she broke the glass over his head.

Still that didn’t stop him, and Rick watched as his Dad began to ravage her again, worse this time, somehow, even as his own blood began to run like rain down his head, dripping down his cheeks and neck, staining the collar of his shirt.

Rick thought he looked like a murderer, like a monster, and that thought is what snapped him out of his shock as he realized his Dad was killing his Mom.

His Dad could kill his Mom.

Then he ran out of the house, all the way down the street where he knew a cop lived.

He pounded on the door so hard he thought his knuckles would shatter.

A woman in a night robe answered, her tired and annoyed eyes widening when she saw Rick’s left cheek already swollen and bruising, when she saw his arms covered in color.

Rick didn’t give her a chance to speak, just yelled over and over at the top of his lungs: He’s killing my Mom.

And he was heaving, heaving, heaving. He couldn’t breathe.

The woman took Rick into her arms, lead him into her house.

She called her husbands name frantically, and the rest was a blur of trying to breathe and that lady’s voice gently telling him to calm down.

Next thing he knows, his Dad is in jail and he’s living with his Mother in a women’s shelter in a city two hours away.

But his Dad gets out.

And they get out of the women's shelter to live with his mothers friend a few minutes farther.

But his Dad finds them, and they run away two towns over.

They stayed in motels or other women's shelters, and Cindy looked for jobs, thinking they’d settle, and that she’d get to stock away the thick wad of cash she stole from beneath her husbands mattress before they left and save it for Rick’s future- college and all that.

But then he finds them again, and they run again.

And the cycle went on.

Everytime it happened, Rick couldn’t breathe. He panicked he cried, his whole body went numb and tingly.

His mother had to hold him like a baby. Had to hold her now fourteen year old son like a baby just to get him to breathe normally again.

She’d cry into his hair, apologize

Then they’d to go to the next town, the next gas station, the next shelter, the next motel.

If there was anything that remained constant other than the cycle, it was his mother’s fuschia lipstick.

Once her lips were healed and smooth again, she was wearing it day in and day out.

Rick watched her apply it in the visor mirror all the time, watched how the color across her lips made her face and mood liven up on even the toughest, dullest days.

“Mom?” Rick asked.

“Yes, baby?”

“Why do you put on that lipstick all the time?”

It was pure curiosity, Rick’s question, nothing behind it but pure curiosity.

Cindy looked at her son, wracked her mind for an answer.

She saw summer beaches and pretty Cali boys in their board shorts. She saw her friend Janet and her freckles darkened by the sun. She saw her Mom and Dad and the dirty emerald colored ocean.

Blue skies. Blue like her beautiful son’s eyes.

“Because,” she answers, honest and true, her fuschia mouth curling into a smile, “It makes me happy.”

Rick nodded and thought happy would be nice right now.

Cindy caught her son’s gaze on the silver tube.

“You wanna try it on?” She asked.

“Boys don’t wear lipstick, Mom.”

Cindy waved a dismissive hand, “Well, I think they should.”

Rick gave in to his curiosity, and let his mother grab his chin.

“Now, don’t move,” she said, smiling, and began to fill in her sons lips, “Or I’ll mess up.”

The lipstick bullet moving across Rick’s lips tickled though, and he grinned and dissolved into giggles.

Cindy laughed, and she was finished.

She pulled down the visor mirror for her son, so he could see how he looked.

Rick grimaced. It was a nice color, but it suited his Mom better than it did him.

“I don’t think this is my color,” Rick declared, and his Mom laughed hard.

Cindy pulled him in for a hug and a kiss on the cheek, leaving a pink mark.

“You’ll find your color, sweetie,” she assured, then corrected herself, “Colors… You can have all the colors you want.”

After that, Rick started asking his Mom a lot more questions. About her life, and about her favorite foods and her favorite movies and her favorite songs.

She asked those questions right back.

It wasn’t until Rick asked her if he’d ever go to school again that Cindy realizes she really does need to find a home, that she really does need to settle.

And she knows her best bet is California, and begging her parents for forgiveness.

Yes, that was her best bet, but until then she would try her luck in New Mexico and Arizona and Nevada.

They’d stay in shelters there, sometimes rent houses, and enroll Rick in nearby schools there, only to leave to the next place not even a month later.

Three months, three different states, three different cities, three different schools- no friends.

Rick missed Negan so bad it burned a hole in him, but he didn’t have time to think about that until California, when they stayed with his grandparents.

There, he had a home.

His grandparents loved him like his Mother loved him, and they had a big house by the beach and a school that worked around his situation.

Rick liked it there because it was calm and quiet. But once he got used to that, then he began to miss Negan.

He began to think about him a lot. About how he just left him with nothing but a birthday letter. About how much fun they had. About how they used to talk. About the horse sitting dormant in the garage. About how they kissed once.

The possibility that he’d never see Negan again began to dawn on him, and he had to live with that. Rick had to get over him, and not only their friendship, but his crush. Negan didn’t like him that way, after all. He didn’t like boys like Rick did.

So he got over him.

He went to the beach one summer, and met Shane.

He was older by a couple years- sixteen- but Rick felt like he was way older than fourteen, anyways.

They started hanging out everyday, talking and swimming and sharing ice cream cones and making sandcastles and going to bonfires at night and walks on the beach early in the morning.

Rick liked him a lot, and he could feel that Shane did, too. He could see it in his dark brown eyes, but he saw something else, too.

Fear.

During one of their walks, Rick decided to entertain that fear.

“Do you like me?” Rick asked, shy but almost teasing.

Shane swung their linked hands.

“Well, I’m holdin’ your hand now, ain’t I? What does that say?”

He was smirking, eyes raking over Rick’s face.

Rick was smiling like a fool. Just a few months talking to the boy and Shane was already picking up pieces of his Texas tongue.

“So you’re my boyfriend?” Rick questioned eagerly.

He so desperately wanted a boyfriend like the ones on television. He wanted to kiss someone, Shane to be specific, and maybe he wanted to try other things with him, too.

“Woah, woah, woah! I didn’t… say that.”

“You didn’t have to.”

Shane sighed, stopped walking.

Rick stopped, too.

“Rick, I’m older than you. _Waaay_ older than you.”

“It’s two years, Shane.”

“Exactly, babe. Thank you for pointin’ that out.”

Rick rolled his eyes, smiled still.

“I don’t think we’re ready for that step,” Shane began, and Rick frowned, “... Yet.”

Rick looked up at him, hopeful.

“Maybe we see how this thing goes, me and you, in the next year. Then we go on from there.”

Rick’s smile returned, small, but his eyes twinkled.

“Okay,” he said.

Then Shane leaned in to kiss him, and Rick felt butterflies, all warm and soft and fluttery.

It was short, but Rick could feel it on his lips for the rest of the day, and he thought maybe he could be in love with Shane.

But then the next day, he saw Shane lying on the sand with a girl in his lap, a girl he knew was the same age as him. They were kissing so intensely Rick could see their tongues.

For a split second, Shane’s eyes flickered open as he made out with the girl, and he saw Rick, confused and betrayed.

Rick walked away and Shane went after him.

“Rick, I’m sorry-”

“It’s not my age, is it?” Rick interrupted..

“What are you talking about?”

“It’s not my age that’s the problem.”

Shane’s face fell straight.

“It’s my dick. And your dick.”

Shane looked guilty, and Rick went home.

He didn’t go to the beach anymore after that. Just sat in his room and wondered what Shane was so ashamed of, thought he didn’t want to be with someone who was ashamed of liking him, and looked out the window at the beach and the sky, then into their makeshift garden on the back porch.

That’s where his Mom always was, tending to their potted plants and trying to find peace.

When they first got to her childhood home, Cindy’s parents advised her to find peace with God at church.

She did find it, for a while. She read the Bible, she prayed, she donated to her church.

Then she just gave up.

She gave up on believing there was a higher power that actually cared or listened.

After that she found solace in gardening, and she was always out on the back porch, tending to her plants, brandishing her green thumb.

She was convinced she could make her very own Garden of Eden.

One day, Rick went out to talk to her.

“Mom, I want to go back.”

Her grip tightened around her hand shovel.

“Go back where?” She knew where.

“Texas.”

Her hands began to shake.

“There’s nothing there for us, Rick.”

Rick knew that was a lie, at least on his behalf.

There was Negan.

He had Negan.

He had a friend who never lied to him; he had his truest friend ever.

“I want to go back,” Rick repeated, quieter.

“I’m not going with you,” his mother supplied.

“You don’t have to,” Rick said, and they came up with a compromise, though Rick felt something come in between them as it was made.

Despite that, Rick was there Freshmen year.

His first day of high school and everyone was asking him if he was new to town.

No one remembered him or recognized him. Not even Negan.

He saw the boy in the hallway, dribbling a basketball, a short girl with curly hair yelling at him to _fucking stop it already, Jesus Christ, Negan we’re in the damn hall!_ It took a while for Rick to recognize him, he was so thin. If it hadn’t been for that girl yelling his name, he probably wouldn’t have put two and two together.

Negan saw him, Rick knew he did.

He looked straight at him- or rather, straight through him.

When their eyes met, Negan’s seemed hollow and blank, like he was zoned out.

Then the lanky boy turned away and kept walking.

Rick didn’t bother to approach him further.

He just went on with his life, taking it all as a fresh, clean start.

He was nobody here.

Sometimes that’s good.

-

Rick tells Negan everything he can remember.

Everything but the kiss and the crush and how he noticed how Negan tried not to notice him.

He tells him about Louie. About Louie’s Dad and how together, he and his son taunted Rick, and how he was so deep in his alcoholism that you could never tell when he was drunk because he just seemed normal, like his body could finally maintain homeostasis.

(That’s why Rick gave him the keys. He was only sixteen. How was he supposed to know?)

He tells him about how Louie still blames him to this very day, and so does his aunt, probably.

When it’s all out there, when Rick is done crying and letting himself openly feel the pain, everything is quiet.

“I’m glad you told me all this, Rick,” Negan whispers into his hair, once he deems it right to speak.

There are dried tears on his cheeks, and his hold on Rick is tighter and more secure, as though that’ll help guard the boy from feeling more pain.

“You deserved to know,” Rick says simply, still numb and placid.

The sun is beginning to rise, and they both have minimal sleep under their belts.

Rick feels like death, but with death comes rebirth.

“And I deserved to tell someone,” he adds.

Negan nods softly.

“You did.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank u all for reading! I hope you enjoyed, and as always, feed back and constructive criticism are more than welcome. <3  
> i know this was a really heavy chapter, but i can assure u this will be the heaviest it gets.


	9. White

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i listened to mr magic by amy winehouse a lot while i wrote and proofread this chapter, and now it's on the playlist. feel free to listen, and also, I hope yall are having a great year so far. if not, I hope it gets better :)  
> shit, also, i realized i might have misspelled fuschia last chapter, but.... to me, fuchsia just looks wrong as hell so im not gnna change it.   
> also, this is coming from someone who misspelled sriracha in their user name... so im sure ur not surprised lmao  
> ANYWAYS, enjoy.

Negan hasn't stopped apologizing for outing Rick, or for lying about how they slept together.

He hasn't stopped because the guilt hasn't left.

Even when he's boot free and the cast is off, he's still apologizing. 

He told Lucille that by the time his leg was healed, Rick would already be on his dick. But he's healed alright, and all he has is that missed goal to his name and the honor of cuddling with Rick almost every night.

He’s not so mad about that, though. Actually, he’s not mad at all.

He’s lucky Rick still talks to him after how horribly he fucked up.

“Rick, I'm sorry I told Simon we were fucking.”

“Rick, I'm sorry I basically outed you. If it helps I didn't tell him you were gay or bi or pan or whatever. I just said we fucked.”

“Rick, I'm sorry-” I'm sorry I'm sorry.

He apologizes so much that Rick is starting to become more annoyed by that than by what he told Simon.

They're in school, sitting side by side in their government class, playing go fish with a deck of card they borrowed from their teacher.

It’s yet another class they do buttshit nothing in, but is still required in order to graduate- and as they’re in the middle of their game, somehow the words find their way through Negan's mouth.

Usually Rick stops listening after, “Rick, I'm sorry-” 

He doesn't want to hear what Negan's sorry for again and again. He already fucking knows.

“If you're so sorry,” Rick begins, slightly irritated, “Then tell Simon you lied.”

Negan freezes, and he fish mouths before he truly gets his words out.

“I… I can't do that.”

Rick raises a brow, “Why not?”

Negan scoffs, “I mean, isn't it fucking obvious? Lying about sleeping with someone is fucking lame.”

“Well then why did you do it?” Rick asks, pointedly.

Negan rolls his jaw.

_ Because he was saying gross shit about you and I was getting jealous and I wanted him to stop. _

That’s what Negan wants to say, but he knows Rick won’t care, because no matter his intentions, he still outed Rick and he still broke a promise.

Negan just shakes his head, “I don’t fucking know. I wanted to sound cool. Wanted to act like I didn’t give a fuck.”

Rick looks down at his card, pinches the edge of it between pensive fingers.

“So tell him you lied,” Rick repeats, “If you’re sorry, tell him you lied.”

“Rick, I  _ can’t _ . I’m sorry, but I just fucking can’t.”

“Well then you must not be all that sorry in the first place,” Rick says, then adding, “You got any sixes?”

Negan looks down at his cards, studies them longer than required, because he’s thinking about something else.

“Go fish,” he says, and before Rick can suck his teeth indignantly, Negan puts his cards down, and sticks his hand out. “Let me pop your fingers,” He says, and instantly Rick shrinks away, balling up his fists.

“No!” He says, “You popped them last class period, it still hurts from then!”

“C’mon!” Negan laughs, “It helps me think!”

Rick sighs, lays his hands on Negan’s desk, “Fine,” then he balls them up again when Negan reaches out for them, saying, “But you gotta let me do it first.”

Negan’s expression goes grave.

“God, please. Not  _ it.” _

Rick nods, grinning with amuse, “ _ It.” _

Negan sighs aloud, grumbles, “Fine,” and he turns towards Rick, arms behind his back, eyes squinted shut as he braces himself for  _ it. _

“Please... just make it fucking quick,” he begs.

What  _ it  _ is is just the act of slapping one's tits up and then smacking them right down in place. 

Some call it bean dipping, others call it slam dunking… It's just a thing around their school, a form of compensation in some cases, especially right now. 

It definitely doesn’t feel like much now that Negan doesn’t have much chest other than a fair amount of pec, but still the brush of the nipple and the slight groping is a little too much titillation for school, especially when it's Rick he’s getting bean dipped by.

Rick slam dunks Negan’s tits with too much joyous fervor, and then promptly hide his face in his desk, laughing hard.

Negan doesn’t understand why Rick thinks it’s so funny, but it's cute how he laughs so loud.

Negan grabs the boys hands while he’s occupied in his giggles, bending his fingers to sound thick pops, and Rick gasps.

“Ow!” He cries, with each digit that gets cracked, face growing red as the cycles goes on, until Negan folds his fingers and pops all four knuckles at the same time, causing Rick to let out a ghastly moan that makes the people around them stare. 

Now it's Negan’s turn to laugh, and he clutches Rick’s sore hand in his, laying his head down on them as his hot, humorous breath puffs out against their skin.

Then Rick starts pissing out complaints, talking about how he’s gonna get arthritis by the time he’s thirty, how the last time Negan popped his fingers his pinky was sore for the rest of the day, how Negan should let him slam dunk his tits twice if its gonna hurt that much. 

Negan smiles, squeezes Rick’s hand.

“I’ve got an idea,” Negan says, but it has nothing to do with the fingers or the slam dunking.

It has to do with what he told Simon.

-

Rick thinks it's a terrible idea, that Aaron will never agree to it, and it’ll just be more lame than Negan actually admitting he lied about sleeping with Rick.

Negan actually started to think the same, but regardless, he went through with his plan.

During study hall, Negan wanders around the school asking people if they’ve seen Aaron.

He sees Glenn, trying not to look in Negans direction, and Negan thinks he ought to know.

“Hey Glenn!” Negan calls, and Glenn cowers into the wall, bringing his binder up to cover his face.

“Yes I told Rick, okay! I know it's none of my business but I overheard in the library and I had to to tell him because he’s my friend, please don’t hurt me!”

He gets all those words out in less than three seconds and it takes Negan a moment to get what he’s saying, to understand why Glenn is so afraid.

Fuck, is he really that scary? Is he really that much of a tormentor around here that people are afraid of him?

He looks around at the small group that has gathered around him and Glenn, some watching in anticipation, others in horror.

Negan is filled with guilt.

“What the fuck are you guys fucking looking at??” Negan asks them, and though he is disgusted by his power and his stigma, he uses it to get the people to listen as he yells, “Fuck off!”

And what do you know, they fuck off.

Negan sighs as they clear out.

Glenn brings his binder down, wearily looking Negan in the eyes.

“I’m not gonna.. beat you up or take your lunch money, or whatever the hell you think I’m gonna do,” Negan informs, just so he knows.

Glenn looks down, moves away from the wall, body facing Negan.

“Not gonna trip me?” 

Negan smirks, but it's nothing venomous.

“No,” he assures, then he adds, “It’s probably best you told Rick, anyways. Lord knows I would’ve been too fuckin’ pussy to do that shit on my own.”

Glenn nods, and there’s still a tentative air to everything he does and every move his body makes.

“Is.. is that why you came looking for me? To tell me that?”

“No,” Negan says, remembering his plan, “I was gonna ask you if you knew where Aaron was, but then you lost your fucking shit on me.”

Glenn huffs a laugh through his nose.

“Can you blame me?” He says, then adds, “He’s in the computer lab. He’s  _ always _ in the computer lab, just an FYI.”

Negan hmphs, “Duly fucking noted.”

He pats Glenn’s shoulder and goes to leave, but then the boy stops him with a question.

“Is it true? What you said, I mean. Are you and Rick… together?”

Negan looks down, then back up at Glenn.

He smiles, but it’s faint.

He’s too afraid to answer the question, so he just leaves without a further word towards the computer lab.

Then he finds Aaron, looking busy with headphones on his ears and his face of dull skin illuminated by the soft light of a computer.

Negan gets a little nervous, he has to admit.

“Aaron,” he calls.

Aaron does nothing, remains still as he stares at the monitor, mouse clicking.

Negan opens his mouth to say his name again, thinking he hasn’t been heard, but just as his lips part, Aaron says, mildly annoyed, “What??”

He still looks straight ahead.

“This is gonna sound really  _ really  _ fucking weird, but… can I tell Simon we fucked?”

Aaron doesn’t even blink.

“Yes,” is all he says, in a hurried monotone, and clicks his mouse again, types on the keyboard.

“Okay, thanks,” Negan says, nerves subsiding, “It’s just that, I told him I slept with someone who looks a lot like you and-“

“Negan?” Aaron begins, speaking pointedly as he finally looks up at the boy, fingers still typing rapidly as he says, “I have to study for the finals I have for all  _ six _ of my college credit classes, okay? I don’t have  _ time _ to talk. Tell him we fucked, tell him I’m pregnant, tell him I  _ killed _ someone- I don’t really care.”

Negan gives him an odd look. 

“Geez, alright,” he shrugs, “Thanks anyways.”

Then he leaves back to study hall, sits next to Rick who’s looking up at him expectantly.

“He said no, didn’t he?”

Negan smirks, “Nope!” He says, popping the p, “That dude was so fucking strung the fuck out, he didn’t give a shit about shit. Breath smelt like Red Bull. Had dark circles that looked like fuckin’ black eyes. Hell, he could use a good fucking, that’s for sure… and maybe some sleep… and a hug.”

“So he… let you?” Rick asks, incredulously.

“That’s what I’m saying, Blue.”

Rick rolls that around in his head, “And did you tell Simon yet?”

“Not yet,” Negan says, “Soon, though. I’m trying to make it seem natural, you know? All fucking blasé and  _ oh haha! I didn’t fuck Rick! Oopsie daisy! ... _ That’s my vision.”

Rick blinks, then shakes his head.

“You’re an idiot.”

Negan smiles, “Hey, I might be an idiot, but baby, this plan-“

Rick’s face goes tight and Negan trails off as he realizes what word he just let slip out of his mouth.

He’s not so astounded that he used that word as much as how he used it, how it felt coming off his tongue.

He wasn’t trying to be lewd, wasn’t trying to pester Rick. It just came out.

“Didn’t I tell you to never call me that?” Rick looks around at the other students who couldn’t give less of a fuck, “Especially not around… people.”

“Sorry,” Negan says, “It just slipped.”

Rick studies the boys face.

“It’s fine,” Rick sighs, “Just… just don’t call me that.”

Negan feels something twitch in his chest

“Okay,” he nods, regardless.

-

Now that his leg is healed, Negan can finally go back to basketball athletics for his eighth period. He can’t really do anything but upper body workouts in the weight room with the training coach, and talk to him about what physical therapy he’s doing to get back on the court, but he’s still there.

And that’s where he gets his chance to see Simon: there in the boys locker room, just a few minutes away from the end of the school day.

“Big game after Christmas,” Simon says as he’s sitting on a bench, tying up his shoes. Negan is beside him, already fully dressed and ready to jet. “Wish you could be on the court with us. We don’t stand a fucking chance without you, man.”

Negan smirks, “Maybe just having me on the bench will do you shits some good.”

Simon laughs.

“Nah, but you guys have that new kid? What’s his name, Paul?”

Simon’s brow creases, “Paul?”

“Yeah, that dude with the long hair. And the fucking huge ass beard.”

“Oh, you mean Jesus!” Simon says, “No way, man. That dudes a big bitch. Thinks he’s hot shit.”

Sounds familiar, Negan thinks.

“I heard he’s actually not too fucking bad,” Negan says, “Course he’s not better than me cause that’s fucking impossible, but you guys should be fine.”

Simon snorts, “No one’s fuckin’ better than you,” Simon snorts louder, “Get it?? No ones  _ fucking _ better than you. You’re a legend off the court and on. Once that leg ain’t holding you back, Fabio won’t stand a fucking chance. He’ll be bowing down and begging to suck your fucking dick.”

Negan grimaces, then remembers.

“Speaking of fucking…” he begins, “I- um, that guy you asked me about… the um, sports trainer?”

“Rick?” Simon asks, eyes lighting up in a way that makes Negan’s stomach twist possessively, “What, you finally got some juicy fuckin’ details?”

“No, um..” Negan gulps, “Turns out it wasn’t him I was fucking!” Negan lets out a very fake and loud laugh, taut with nerves, “Can you believe that?! It was Aaron!! You know, the gay one! I must’ve gotten confused since I just, you know, fuck so fucking much! Rick doesn’t even like dick!  _ Pffft!  _ Everyone knows that! It was all a silly fucking mistake on my behalf!”

Simon eyes him, disbelieving and all assessing.

“If you two weren’t fucking, then why were you holding his hand?”

Negan freezes.

“What, you never held hands with your friends? You should… try it sometime. Takes the edge off...”

Simon squints his eyes, searching Negan’s face for clues.

Negan blinks his wide eyes and suddenly Simon is grinning, slapping Negan’s shoulder.

“Well we all make mistakes now, don’t we? Hard to keep a name to a face sometimes, huh?”

Negan nods, “Yeah… totally.”

“Guess I’ll have to take my eye off that pretty little Ricky.”

Negan grits his teeth, “Guess so.”

Simon says some more things that Negan doesn’t care for as they walk out of the locker room.

He only lets out a sigh when Simon finally says bye and leaves somewhere else. 

The Negan goes off to find Rick before he makes it to track practice, hurrying down the halls and shuffling through crowds of anxious-to-leave students so that he can have more time with the boy- as if Rick doesn’t practically live with him in the first place.

He settles down once he sees Rick, having just closed his locker, swinging his gym bag over his shoulder.

Rick smiles at Negan, and Negan hadn’t noticed he’d already been smiling in the first place until all he can do is smile wider, baring pearly white teeth.

“Did he buy it?” 

Negan eyes him funnily, still smiling like a fool, “Huh?”

Rick rolls his eyes, “Simon. Did he buy what you told him?”

“Oh,” Negan says, “Yeah, yeah, yeah. He bought it, alright. You’re in the fucking clear.”

Rick hmphs, “I guess you’re forgiven.”

Negan smirks, “Oh yeah?” He raises an eyebrow, “You wanna show me just how fucking forgiven I am?” Negan leans in, fluttering his eyelashes.

Again, Rick rolls his eyes, but he smiles and flicks Negan's cheek.

When he turns to leave, Negan says, “Hey, where are you going?”

“Track practice!” Rick says, like it’s obvious, because it should be.

It’s just that Negan may have gotten a little lost.

“Oh yeah,” he says, shaking his head. Then he asks, “What time do you want me to pick you up?”

“Six,” Rick answers, still walking towards the door.

“Okay,” Negan says, and he wishes Rick had said just a few words more as he watches the boy walk out of the building.

But he doesn’t know why he wishes that.

Or maybe he does, but that can’t be.

He lingers in the hall for a while, until all the stirring of students has settled to nearly nothing.

Then he figures he better go home, and he heads towards the student parking lot.

There, sitting in his mustang- which his parents let him drive regularly now in lieu of his truck- is Lucille. 

Negan eyes her with confusion and she just looks dead at him, gaze impatient, and he realizes it’s been a while since he’s seen her.

Especially since they’re used to seeing each other almost everyday.

He gets into his car, gets a closer look at her.

She looks tired, irritated. She’s not wearing any makeup, there’s a pimple on her forehead that looks like it’s been picked at mercilessly despite its mild presence.

Lucille wants to be an esthetician, always loves and admires the beauty living in everything, especially humans. 

She always hounds Negan for picking at his zits, always does extractions for him and does these weird gimmicky things to his skin because that’s their friendship and Negan doesn’t mind.

That being said, Negan takes that small dot on her forehead as a warning sign.

“You okay? I haven’t seen you in a while,” Negan says, looking over at her, “Where have you been? …How did you get in my car??”

“I have my ways,” is all she says, pausing before she adds, “I’ve been taking some days off for myself.”

“What do you need days off for?” Negan asks, free of judgement. 

Lucille sighs, “Stop talking and drive. Maybe I’ll tell you when we get to your house.”

Negan heeds her command without a word more. 

“Is Rick at track practice?” Lucille asks.

“Yeah,” Negan says.

Lucille looks at him, then looks away. 

Negan gets onto the highway, and that’s when Lucille says, “Put the top down. I’m trying to feel like a fucking queen.”

Negan lets out a small laugh through his nose, but obliges.

The wind rushes through their hair, making Lucille’s thick mane of curls rush back like a flag of spirit.

She tips her head back against the rest the seat provides, closes her eyes, and listens to the whooshing and hissing of rapid and wandering air. 

She stays like that until they pull into Negan's garage, and even then.

Negan thinks she’s asleep, but when he goes to shake her awake, she grabs his hand.

“Don’t touch me,” she says, eyes still closed, “I’m zen.”

“So you’re just gonna stay in my fucking car?”

“No,” Lucille answers, “I’m gonna open my eyes in a minute or two and face the immediate visual stressors induced by looking at your cheesy fucking face… Unless you turn the stereo on, then maybe I’ll stay in here.”

Negan smirks, “You’re such a fucking girl… I fucking love you.”

Lucille laughs, opens her eyes, finally.

She looks at Negan and her face saddens.

“Let’s go on your trampoline.”

-

All they do is lie down beside each other on the trampoline.

“We’re not even jumping,” Negan says.

“Really?” Lucille says sarcastically, “I couldn’t notice.”

Negan rolls his eyes, and lets the silence resume.

It only lasts for a moment though.

“I heard some things,” Lucille blinks, “About you and Rick.”

Negan feels that knot of guilt in his stomach tug tighter.

“Is it true?” Lucille asks, but her voice is not desperate for gossip, or anything like that. Really, it's full of dread. “Did you two fuck?”

“No,” Negan admits, voice tight, “I- I lied. But I made good on it. I tried to make good on it.”

Lucille nods roughly, and Negan can feel the disappointment radiating off of her and towards him, like it usually does when he does something selfish like this.

“I think I… I think I might like him,” Negan says, a little too quickly.

“Like, _like_ _him_ like him?”

“Yeah… I called him baby.”

Lucille huffs a chuckle, “So what? That’s why you think you like him? You call everyone baby when you’re trying to fuck them.”

“Yeah but… I'm not trying to fuck Rick.. anymore. At least not actively..”

Lucille thinks, then says, “So you like him?” 

“Yeah, I think so. Like I just fuckin’ said.”

“So tell him.”

Negan guffaws, “I can't tell him!”

“Why?”

“Because…” Negan says, trailing off because his reason is nothing but juvenile fear, “what if he doesn't like me back?”

“Then he doesn't like you back. It's not the end of the world.”

“Well yeah it's not the end of the world but it's also not as fucking simple as that!” Negan frowns, sighing, “Do you know how goddamn embarrassing that shit will fucking be? How fucking pathetic I'll fucking look and feel? I can’t tell him.”

“So you’re just gonna keep this all bottled up and wait for him to make the first move?”

Negan nods, “Yeah that sounds about fucking right.”

“And what if that never comes?”

That thought alone makes Negan deflate. He has to take a breath and remind himself this is just a little crush.

“You know what… this is dumb. I’m getting ahead of myself, maybe,” He says, quietly, “I can’t like Rick, that’ll just fucking ruin everything.”

“You’re being dramatic. How in the hell could that ruin everything?”

“Because we’ve been friends since we were six fucking years old! If he doesn’t like me back… then that’s all gone. It's all just… fucking ruined.”

Lucille goes quiet.

“And then, say he does like me back- because well, I am a fucking catch-“

Lucille snorts, “What? You think you’re a catch just because you drive the same car as Guy Fieri-“

“ _ Anyways!  _ Rick’s not even out… and I’m affectionate as fuck, no matter what I do, and he’s handsome as fucking shit and has a nice ass; I wouldn't be able to keep my fucking hands off of him, in or out of the public eye. I’d eventually slip up- like I already did, and I don’t wanna do that. I don’t wanna fuck shit up for him just by… loving him.” Negan sputters, “I mean liking him!  _ Wait,  _ I mean, I … Oh, fuck it..”

Lucille smiles, shakes her head.

“Maybe you’re right,” she says, “Maybe we are getting ahead of ourselves.”

Negan hears something in her tone. Something that tells him she’s not just talking about Negan’s situation anymore.

“Why did you skip school, huh?” Negan finally asks, “Why did you need some days off?”

Lucille lets out a sad breath.

“I’ve just been thinking too much.”

“About?”

“Graduating… College… Leaving this place.”

Those words feel like they don’t apply to Negan, or to Lucille either, when he hears them.

Negan still feels like a little fucking kid, in so many ways. All those words and events sound so far away, but it's just a few months til.

“What if I don’t see you again?” Lucille says, “Or worse, not as much, you know? What if we become just those kind of friends that make empty plans and shit, and dread running into each other at grocery stores? I don’t wanna- It’ll kill me if that happens, you know that? You’re my best fucking friend, you.. dumb bitch.”

Lucille is crying by the time she utters those last few words, and Negan pulls her into his side.

“Aw, Lucy,” he say, teasing but gentle. He might even be a little teary eyed himself, “You really think it's that easy to fucking get rid of me? I’m like a fucking gnarly case of genital warts: you think I’m gone ‘cause I skipped out for a good month or two and I come back with a fucking vengeance.”

“I hate you,” Lucille says through tears.

Negan smiles.

“You’re my best friend, too,” he says, much more serious, “You kinda saved me from losing myself, now that I fuckin’ think about it. If you hadn’t turned me down and punched me in the face, I would have been some dumb slut like Simon… Thanks to you, I’m just a dumb slut like Negan.”

That makes the girl laugh, bright and wet.

“I like dumb slut Negan,” she says, “He’s a softie.”

Negan smirks, “Not a softie where it counts,” he says, and Lucille grimaces..

“Gross,” she mutters, moving out of Negan's space and back into her own.

They stare at the sky a few minutes more before they get bored.

-

Lucille and Negan go inside to find some food, which results in them microwaving some spaghetti-o’s because their skills are limited to pancakes and nothing else, and Lucille doesn’t like pancakes.

They could’ve made the spaghetti-o’s on the stovetop like respectable young citizens, but they don’t want to have to wash more dishes than necessary. They don’t even wanna wash dishes, period.

In fact, Lucille has to give Negan a five minute lecture on why  _ you can’t just put an aluminum fucking can in the microwave, you dumbass, do you wanna kill us all? _

So therefore, bowls were included.

Once they finish eating, they board Negan’s mustang, and Lucille manages to make another Guy Fieri joke before Negan drops her off at her house. 

She’s on her phone as she walks into her home, throwing a wave of goodbye over her shoulder as she finally enters.

By the time she’s been inside for two seconds, Negan's own phone buzzes twice. 

He checks it, sees a notification that a song has been added to Lucille’s playlist, and a text from Lucille.

_ That last one’s for you, lover boy. I’m glad ur stupid plan didn’t work out. _

Negan shakes his head, a small smile meeting his mouth. He bets that if he were to turn around, he’d see Lucille looking at him through the blinds of her bedroom window, gauging his reaction.

Regardless, he puts on the song, and drives towards the high school.

-

Rick hops into the mustang, and they greet each other with a simple exchange of  _ hey _ and  _ hi _ .

Negan hates how he feels too conscious of himself now that he’s admitted his feelings towards Rick to Lucille and himself. 

Maybe the silence that ensues between them feels comfortable for Rick, but for Negan its thick and full of his thoughts.

“Are you going to next week's away game?” Negan asks when they’re stopped at a red light.

“I’m the only sports trainer,” Rick teases, smiling, “So yeah.”

“Fuck you, Rick.”

Rick laughs, and Negan smiles, but it goes wobbly with nerves as he prepares to ask another question.

“Who are you rooming with?”

The light turns green, and Negan steps on the gas.

Rick looks over at Negan, “Well… you. I mean, if you want. Unless you were gonna room with Simon, or another one of your teammates.”

“No.. no, yeah,” Negan says quickly, “Fuck yeah, I’ll room with you. We’ve been sharing a room for a fuckin’ while now, anyways, right?”

“Right,” Rick nods, “and you snore really loud and your body steams like a sauna.”

Negan snorts, “You tryna tell me I’m hot, Rick? Because I’ve been told many fuckin’ times, but people have never been as goddamn creative. Bra-fucking-vo, Blue. You’ve gone above and fucking beyond.”

“Shut up,” Rick mutters, looking out the window. He sees the Creme Cup sign in the corner of his eye, and turns back towards Negan, “Let’s go to Creme Cup,” he suggests.

Negan glances back at him, already signaling the turn, “Really? You wanna go to Creme Cup with me? Finally?”

“Sure, why not,” Rick says, “As long as you’re paying.”

“Rick,” Negan begins, smirking softly, “It would be a fucking honor to pay for the assload of food you’re about to make me buy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you all for reading! I hope you all enjoyed, and as always, feedback and constructive criticism are more than welcome. <333


	10. Gold

Rick and Negan are asleep in bed together, limbs of their half naked bodies tangled in a comfortable knot, when Negan’s mother walks in on them.

She’d been calling their names from the kitchen for a few minutes, her yelling impenetrable to the boys skulls, when she decided to take matters into her own hands.

Maybe she should’ve knocked, but then again, maybe the tired teens, who were up until five in the morning watching and laughing at really dumb clickbait YouTube videos, wouldn’t have heard that either.

“ _Ay Diosito santo!”_ She yells on sight, and the boys finally startle awake, pulling apart from each other and sitting up, “Please tell me you’re wearing _something_ ,” she says, standing in the doorway as she slaps a hand over her eyes.

“Mom, we didn’t do anything!” Negan says, voice muttered and tired, “We’re not naked!”

Rick looks over at Negan with fear in his eyes, and reasonably so, because then Negan’s mom huffs out a breath and crosses her arms.

“Up, the both of you,” She says, sternly, “We need to have a talk.”

The look of fear turns into an anxious red against Rick’s cheeks, and he glances over at Negan with wide eyes, silently fearing maybe this was the first straw too many for Negan’s mom and maybe she’d send him away.

Negan laid a hand on Rick’s knee, over the covers, wordlessly reassuring him his fears were irrational.

“She’s gonna kick my ass,” Negan mutters, then sighs as he swings his legs over the edge of the bed, “Oh well. Let’s go.”

“Wait!” Rick calls, when Negan goes for the door, nearly naked, but unafraid, “Can you toss me some clothes?”

Negan smirks, “You’ve got legs, Ricky. Each a mile long, last time I checked. Hell, they were putting my thighs in a chokehold last night, so I should fuckin’ know.”

“You’re closer, though,” Rick grumbles, looking up at Negan with troubled puppy eyes.

“Fine,” Negan sighs, giving in as he walks towards his dresser. But Rick doesn’t see the devilish grin that sprouts just as soon as Negan turns his back.

He reaches in his underwear drawer and digs quickly for that jockstrap he knows is somewhere there.

Laughter bubbles out of him as he takes it in his hand, and Rick suspiciously asks, “What are you laughing at?” Just as Negan chucks the garment in Rick’s face and jets out of the room with giggles too bright and loud for having just woken up.

Negan runs to the kitchen in his fit of mischief, the sounds of Rick cursing and fumbling out of bed filling his ears.

He keeps laughing until his mom's voice, not a foot away, says, “What’s so funny?” An edge to her voice that tells Negan now is no time to laugh.

Negan gulps down his shenanigans, says, “Um, nothing,” with wide eyes.

Just then, Rick comes stomping towards Negan's side, wearing Negan’s clothes and muttering something that involves the word asshole as he shoves at the boy’s shoulder.

When he catches sight of Negan's mom, he stiffens, looking guilty.

Negan's mom softens slightly, taking pity on the two kids before her.

“Sit down,” she says to the both of them, gesturing to the kitchen table, and she goes to do the same.

She sits at the head of the table, one boy at her left and the other at her right.

Rick and Negan share a wary look.

Negan’s mom sighs.

“Rick,” she begins, gentle but impassive, and Rick looks up at her with nervous eyes, “Did your Mom or Dad ever give you the talk?”

Rick looks down at the table. Suddenly the weird dark eyes patterned in the wood seem comforting, less incriminating.

Negan looks over at Rick, eyes soft and sympathetic, but Rick is still fixed on the table.

Both Negan and his mom think he won’t answer, but then they hear a strained, “No,” and the boy lifts his head, though it looks like it takes a lot.

The woman nods, laying her hand on Rick’s just for a moment, before she lets go and looks over at her son.

“I know we’ve had this talk before,” she says, pointedly, and Negan sinks awkwardly into his seat, “But that was a long time ago. Before we knew you liked boys, too.”

She turns to Rick again, a question finally coming to her, “Do you like boys?”

Rick looks away, feeling his eyes widen at the question. His cheeks heat up, and he feels the instant urge to deny, to cover up. But he feels like she knows.

Then he glances over at Negan.

He thinks, what reason does he have to not trust this woman?

None.

So he answers her honestly.

“Yes,” he nods.

She nods back.

“Y’know,” she begins, “Well, I’m sure you two know, but… it’s a natural thing to be curious about your own body. To be curious about sex.”

Rick and Negan tense at the sharp word, Because is she really using this word between them two? Is she really implying that sex could happen between them?

Sure, it's not impossible, but to hear it coming out of someone’s mouth, other than Negan's when he’s talking shit, is… weird. Especially when it’s his Mom and she’s speaking so seriously.

“Sex is a natural thing,” she continues, “It’s normal to want it. It’s normal to not want it. It's just like love, _si?_ Some people find a lover, some don’t want one and lead a life of their own, on their own. None is better or worse than the other. You do not base your worth or your quality of life off of who or if you love, same as you don’t base it off of how much sex you have or don’t have. _Tu comprendes?”_

Rick nods, Negan nods- but the latter does so stiffly.

“I don’t want you guys to think having sex is a bad thing. I’m not saying don’t do it, but I’m not sure I encourage it at so young an age. Take your time, be patient, wait, is what I encourage, but if you find yourself in a situation where… it… feels right, just make sure you’re doing it for the right reasons. Double check. Triple check. Do _not_ feel pressured to have sex because everyone else is doing it, or because it's what’s cool, or because your partner has and you haven’t. Respect your body, okay? Make sure you’re with somebody who respects your body, too.”

Negan, whose social life and status basically revolves around his sex life, crosses his arms and looks down.

Boy, did he need to be reminded of that. It's a little too late, but still. Would’ve saved him a lot of time and scrutiny and embarrassment if maybe he had heeded his mother's words the first time.

“Not only that, let yourself be with someone who respects your curiosity, and your inexperience. Make sure you respect them right back, make sure everything is mutual and consensual and… tender.”

Negan grimaces awkwardly. His Mom sees and she has to stifle a laugh.

“Lastly, it's important to go into this being safe not only mentally, but physically. Just because no one can get pregnant doesn’t mean you’re safe, got it? And if you’re too immature to buy condoms… or lube-“ Negan laughs at the word, “Then just don’t have sex.”

The woman glares at her son.

“What’s so funny?” She says, in the same tone she had used not long ago.

“You said lube.”

That earns him a smack upside the head.

Rick lets out a chuckle and Negan lets out an indignant _hey!_

His mother smiles.

“That’s all I have to say for right now,” she concludes, “But if you ever have any more questions, don’t be afraid to ask.”

There’s a thick silence, and then Rick gets up, says, “I have to pee,” and leaves.

Negan watches the boy go and as he stares, a question sprouts in his mind.

He turns to his mom, says, “Mom.. you know we  weren’t doing anything, right? We’re just sleeping in the same bed together, that’s it.”

The woman surveys her son’s face, seeking truth and something more.

After a moment she says, “That may even be more intimate than sex,” a mindful pause, “Be careful with that.”

-

Negan really doesn’t want to ride the bus to the game with the rest of his teammates, especially if  Rick is going to be there, too.

The last thing he wants is Rick watching him make a huge fucking jerk of himself in front of his so called friends just so he can keep his head above water- and that’s why Negan suggests they take the ride alone, just the two of them, in Negan's mustang.

Rick was not so hard to convince.

Negan thinks Rick said yes so easily because he knew what would’ve happened, too, and deep down, he really didn’t want to believe it would have.

But it would have.

They haven’t even been in the car for fifteen minutes when Rick brings up the talk they had with Negan’s mom.

“So even your Mom thinks we’re fucking,” Rick says, “The whole school thinks so, too. I guess it's only natural that your Mom hopped on the wagon.” The _maybe we should just fuck_ goes unsaid, but Rick thinks about it. Negan would be a good person to try those things with. He’s experienced, and good looking and Rick is comfortable around him. The fact that Rick has thought about this multiple times before should be alarming on its own.

Negan spares the boy a glance.

“... The whole school doesn’t think we’re fucking,” Negan assures him, “Just a huge chunk of it.”

“Jeez, that’s comforting.”

Negan attempts a small smile, but it falls short.

“Sorry,” he says.

“Don’t start with the sorries,” Rick sighs, and things go silent. Then he adds, “I guess it's not so bad, anyways, having people think we’re somethin’. That we did.. somethin’. They all look at me different, now.”

Negan furrows his brow, “Who?”

“Everyone.”

Negan blinks, “How do they- how do they look at you?”

Rick gives a smile, but it’s full of something sad and thick.

“Like I’m cool,” he says, “Like I’m actually someone.”

Negan goes quiet. He tries time and time again to open his mouth and speak, to say something, but all that does is make him mouth at the air like a fool.

“I can see how you became so obsessed with it,” Rick says, “It’s nice to have people like you.”

Negan swallows, “Yeah, it is.” His grip tightens on the steering wheel, and he hones in on the road being ate up by the hood of his car.

“But it's not you that they like, when you think about it,” Rick corrects, “It’s what they think you are. What they want you to be. What _they_ want to be.”

“I know,” Negan says, his firm voice putting an end to the conversation. He hands Rick a cord, “Plug in your phone, and play some fucking jams. None of that moody shit- unless it's really good, but I’ll be the judge of that.”

Rick rolls his eyes, takes the cord from his hand.

“That moody shit takes up like ninety percent of all the music I know.”

“Challenge yourself, Rick. Fucking challenge yourself.”

“Says the one who only listens to what Lucille listens to.”

“And now I’m about to listen to what you’re listening to,” Negan counters, smirking, “So make it good, or else I’ll never trust another fucking person with the music they put into my ears again.”

Rick glares at the boy, but finds a song.

“Here,” he says, “The most not-sad song I can think of. Not exactly happy, but… I mean, not miserable.”

Negan raises an eyebrow, but says nothing, just stares ahead at the road and listens to the song being shared.

A voice begins to speak, and Negan’s brow furrows as he looks over at Rick as if to say what the fuck did you just put on?

Rick’s not looking back. No, the boys looking down at the album art shining off the screen of the phone.

 _Mother Earth is pregnant for the third time_

_For y'all have knocked her up_

_I have tasted the maggots in the mind of the universe_

_I was not offended_

_For I knew I had to rise above it all_

_Or drown in my own shit_

After that, the rest of the song is all instrumental, but it wasn’t boring like Negan thinks most instrumentals are.

Negan thinks it kinda sounds like Jimi Hendrix but with less of the jazzy acid-dropping shit.

And it was fucking intense; Negan couldn’t stop listening.

He was listening so hard he felt like he was just an inch away from pressing his ear right against the speaker.

There was little calls of _Go on, maggot brain- Go on, maggot brain-_ and then it felt like the song ended just a second later.

Negan is baffled when he finds out the song was ten minutes long. He didn’t know something could grab his attention for that long.

“Did you like it?” Rick asks.

“Rick, I think I just fucking came... twice.”

“I’m never showing you another song again.”

Negan laughs again, and frees a hand to pinch Rick’s thigh.

-

Negan is so bored.

 _So_ bored.

He never realized how boring it was just sitting on the side, watching one of these ridiculous ass games.

He never realized how much he kind of really doesn’t wanna play either.

And where the fuck is Rick? Negan saw him once during the first quarter, but then his coach sat him on the far far edge of the gym with all the other players that are always benched, and that was that.

“Who knows,” his coach says, “Maybe we’ll need ya in the last quarter.”

Negan makes a face and sits deeper in his seat.

“Doctors orders say not happening,” He jibes, and his coach huffs.

Now it's nearing half time, and Negan has only grown more restless.

He turns in his seat, scanning the visitors side, and gets his answer.

There at the top of the bleachers is Rick, right beside the school camera that’s perched on a tripod, filming the game for highlights. He looks just as bored as Negan as he lies parallel with the length of the bleachers, upper body turned towards the court as he mindlessly watches the game. He’s got a lollipop in his hand, and sometimes in his mouth.

Mostly in his mouth.

From where Negan's sitting it looks like it’s cherry. He wants to taste it off the boys lips.

Negan spares a glance over to his coach, who’s busy yelling at some of his teammates about defense and what not. They’re getting their asses handed to them.

Surely he won’t notice if Negan leaves, so Negan leaves.

He leaves his seat and heads towards the visitors bleachers.

Luckily the turnout was good this game, despite it being out of town, and Negan is virtually invisible in the density of people.

A lot of those people say hi to him as he climbs to the top, a lot of them ask him what he’s doing or why he’s not playing- _we need you out there! we need you out there!_

Negan dismisses it all with quick waves, and focuses on his trek.

Rick had noticed him when he was just halfway up the bleachers, had craned his neck to look at him.

His neck is still craned when Negan gets to him, and the lanky teen towers over the boy on the floor of the bleachers.

“What are you _doing?_ ” Rick asks, incredulous enough that he almost looks scared.

Negan smirks, “Hey sports trainer, think I got a cramp in my leg, could you bend me over and rub me- I mean _it-_ out?”

The mess up was intentional and Rick knows that- it makes him laugh, makes him slap Negan’s bare leg.

Negan’s dressed in his basketball uniform, even though he’s not supposed to be playing, sticking out like a sore thumb in the visitors crowd.

But he couldn’t care less.

Rick sits up, butt on the bleachers seat.

Negan sits beside him, kind of- butt on the floor of the bleachers, his legs perched up on the seat in front of him.

“You’re gonna get in trouble,” Rick says, voice garbled around his lollipop.

Negan was right: it is cherry. He can smell it now that he’s close, never mind the fact he can see the deep red color.

“I don’t care,” Negan shrugs, and he eyes Rick’s mouth where the center of his lips are stained with food dye.

Rick notices, and Negan reaches out to grab the paper stem, trying to take the lollipop from the boy’s mouth.

Rick furrows his brow, humming _nmm mm!_ in disapproval as he holds onto the candy with his teeth.

“I just want one damn lick!” Negan reasons, and eventually he pulls hard enough that the stem just comes out all on its own, and the cherry bulb stays in Rick’s mouth.

Negan looks at the stick in his hand, surprised at first before he breaks into a fit of loud laughter.

“Aw, fuck you!” Rick whines, “Now I gotta chew it! I didn’t want it to turn into gum yet.”

“Well you don’t _have_ to,” Negan says, and Rick rolls his eyes.

“Here,” he says, reaching in his pocket and tossing Negan a new blow pop, a little attitude in his throw, “It’s watermelon.”

“Good enough,” Negan smirks, and he takes the candy, “Thanks, Blue.”

During half time, the players go into the locker room and the cheerleaders from each team do their routines.

Negan sees Lucille looking up the skirt of the girl she likes. It's kind of mandatory considering the girl she likes is at the top of the pyramid and Lucille is a spotter, but still Negan laughs and lets out the loudest whistle ever, yelling, “ _YEAH, LUCILLE!!!”_ spreading his watermelon breath into the air.

Rick shoves his shoulder and blushes with embarrassment, and Negan can see Lucille shake her head even from where he sits.

That whistle and yell end up biting him in the ass however, because his coach finds him, calls him down to the locker room with the rest of the team.

Negan goes, but he sure as hell isn't happy about it.

“Bye, Rick,” Negan grumbles, trudging extra heavily down the steps, making so much noise.

“Bye, Negan,” Rick says, and maybe it's wishful thinking, but Negan thinks Rick sounds just as disappointed as Negan feels.

Inside the locker room, everyone’s yelling: Simon, that new kid Jesus, his coach.

 _It’s just a game_ , Negan wants to say, but he’ll get his ass annihilated, pretty much.

Hell, six weeks ago he would’ve been yelling like a dumbass, too. Actually, six weeks ago he would’ve been playing, so therefore they’d be winning and there’d be no angry yelling, but that’s besides the point.

What is the point is that Negan doesn’t like basketball anymore.

Maybe he never really did like it anyways. He just liked the fake friends and fucks, and the attention and praise he got in turn for being above average at something.

-

They lose the game by four points and everyone is all woe is me.

Negan just wants to get back to the hotel and sleep, maybe eat something. He’s too tired to even eat. He doesn’t know why, considering he didn’t even play.

There’s two beds in their hotel room, and even though they’ve been sharing Negan's bed at home for almost two weeks now, Negan figures maybe Rick would want some space and sets up camp away from the boy.

When Rick gets out of the shower, he sees Negan asleep underneath the thick white covers on that bed instead of this one, and figures that’s where he’ll be sleeping tonight.

Negan wakes up when the bed dips.

“You don’t wanna… sleep over there?” Negan asks, voice weary and blurred.

It’s barely ten o’clock.

“No,” Rick answers, then adds, “Why, do you want me to?”

Negan shakes his head, “Fuck no,” and he wraps an arm around Rick’s middle, and pulls him in.

“I’m not going to sleep yet,” Rick laughs, but he lets Negan handle him.

“I am,” Negan says, pointedly, “So I guess you’re fuckin’ stuck here.”

Rick turns in Negans arms.

“Don’t go to sleep!” Rick says, looking into Negan’s closed eyes, “Stay up with me.”

Negan whines, deep and grumbly, places his chin on top of Rick’s head, just like he always does, “I’m tired.”

“Let’s watch a movie.”

“I don’t like movies.”

“Everyone likes movies, Negan.”

“Well, I don’t fuckin’ like em right now.”

Rick butts his head against Negan’s bare chest, repeatedly.

“Wake up.”

“No,” he says, long and drawn out, voice bending with each bump of Rick’s head. He laughs, and it sounds funny, “Stop it,” he giggles, “I really am tired.”

Rick sighs, stops ramming his head into Negan’s chest, “Fine. One hour and I’m waking you up.”

“Make it two.”

“One.”

“Three?”

“One and half.”

Rick turns away from Negan as if to say that’s his final offer, and Negan throws a leg over Rick’s hip, pulls Rick’s back flush against his front.

“Deal.”

-

“I don’t wanna watch _My_ _Girl_ ,” Negan complains, still groggy an hour and a half later, as Rick flips through channels, “I’ve already seen that shit.”

“It’s a classic, asshole.”

“I don’t wanna cry, dammit.”

Rick rolls his eyes, but changes it.

“Wanna watch _Holes_?”

“Watch what?”

“Holes.”

Negan snickers, “Which ones?”

“I hate you.”

Rick’s laughing as he says it, and Negan laughs too, gazing down at the boy on his chest who’s looking at the TV.

His skin is blue with the light reflecting back on him, and his lips are stretched in a smile, his eyes glossy and fresh.

Sounds of the city outside their window hum and moan in a muffled blare. To Negan, It almost feels like it’s not some school trip, and He and Rick are here on their own, as a couple, maybe.

Negan thinks up other stories for them being here, other than _oh, we’re two teens here for a highschool basketball game._

They’re a modern day, homosexual Bonnie and Clyde, running from city to city, hiding from the 5-0, cherishing every moment together as they live knowing any day could be their last.

They’re two newlyweds gone away on a honeymoon, but instead of this shabby hotel room, they’re in a suite with a heart bed and everything is in rosy colors like red and pink and there’s bubbly champagne and white lace.

They’re two bored hotel workers, ready to kill their jobs, but wanting one last hoorah. Together they trash a room, and lay on a squishy bed still pristine against the rubble, waiting for their doom to come and stain their resumes and taint future job opportunities. They’re happy for one moment of revenge.

Negan takes the remote.

“I wanna pick,” he says, and Rick lets him.

He picks some old french movie that looks like a knockoff for some Godard film.

There’s no subtitles or anything, but it's easy to get the jist of these french films since the majority of them are one in the same..

This guy loves that girl, that girl finds him interesting, but it's nothing more than her teasing and maybe a couple fucks because she has someone back home. And everyone smokes a lot of cigarettes.

Negan thought it was all obvious, that Rick was following along easily just as he was despite the foreign language.

“Why are we still watching this?” Rick cuts in, just a moment later, “We don’t even understand French.”

“It's a black and white French film made in the sixties, Rick, that means this movie was made for one reason, and one fucking reason only: Sex… and guns.”

“That’s two-”

“Anyways, it goes something like this: That dude likes that girl, but she’s fucking around with him. She actually likes that guy-“ Negan points to the guy now on the screen, “You can tell. So my guess is, the guy on the side is gonna shoot the main man, and fucking kill him. Then the girls gonna shoot him, and le fucking fin.”

“How do you know she really likes that guy? Maybe she likes the other one, but we just don’t know cause we don’t know what they’re saying.”

“No, you can tell she likes that dude.”

“How?” Rick repeats.

Negan shrugs, “The way she kisses him. The other dude she’s like whatever fuck it, and it's all sloppy and horny. The main dude she’s like, _ploop!_ Like she dropped a flower on his nose, and he’s dropping it right the fuck back.”

Negan knows all about the sloppy, horny kisses. Other kinds, not so much. But maybe he’d like to drop a flower or two on Rick’s nose any given time of day.

“There’s a difference?” Rick asks, curious.

“Of course there’s a difference.” Or at least Negan would like to think there is.

“But like, a noticeable one?”

“Yeah, just look at them.”

Rick looks at them, but not for long, and he turns back to Negan with that smooth face illuminated in soft blue, “Show me.”

Negan freezes, looks over at Rick with wide eyes, thinking maybe he’s misheard or just completely misunderstood, “Um… what?”

“Show me the difference,” Rick says, nothing but boldness in his eyes, “Kiss me like you’re that girl and I’m the guy she really likes.”

“You want me to kiss you?” Negan asks, just to clarify.

Rick nods, “I want you to show me.”

“Sit up then,” Negan says, and he follows when Rick goes. “Face me,” he instructs, and Rick does.

They gaze at each other for a while, and Negan gathers all the nerves in his stomach and tries to push them aside.

He’s never wanted to kiss someone and make it perfect, but with Rick he does, and a part of him can’t believe this is happening. It feels like a dream.

Rick’s hair is messy and uncoiffed, and Negan tucks away the stray strands behind his ear.

Already Rick is blushing from the attention, and when Negan leans in and slots their lips together, he can feel the heat teasing at his skin.

It’s quick, but not too quick. Slow enough to show he cares, that he wants it to last, that he wants to take his time.

When they have their space back to each other, Rick is looking pensively up  at Negan with his, lips glistening softly in the light.

Negan feels butterflies, and he thinks maybe Rick feels them, too. At least he hopes he does.

“Do you remember when we kissed?” Rick asks, suddenly, almost concerned, “That one time in your tree house? We were like eleven.”

Negan eyes him with confusion, “No?” He says, voice full of amuse. He doesn’t remember, but he wishes he did.

Rick looks disappointed but he nods, and then a moment later he leans in again for another kiss, this one deeper, longer.

When they pull away, their breathing is shallow and their eyes are shining just like their lips.

Negan feels a warmth shift from his stomach to his groin, and it goes all around, absorbing him.

“Has anyone ever kissed you like they wanted to fuck you?” Negan asks, frantic with desperation. Rick shakes his head quickly.

“Then I will,” Negan says, because he’s good at that, and Rick nods, wrapping his arms around Negan’s neck as the boy moves in on him, lips moving with Rick’s in a way Rick has never felt before.

Negan’s tongue breaches Rick’s mouth, and Rick lets out a moan he can’t help as he tries pressing Negan’s body closer into his, making their teeth bump and their noses prod each other’s cheeks.

Rick ends up on his back, Negan on top of him, braced between his hips.

His legs spread wider, and Negan shifts upwards, trying to get a hand up Rick’s shirt and more of Rick’s mouth on his when he feels something firm and heavy drag against his groin.

Rick lets out a broken, shuddery gasp, moving his mouth away from Negan’s.

The more he moves his hips against Rick, the heavier and fuller he becomes, the more the boy whimpers and gasps.

Negan lets out a grunt, grinding his hips deeper into Rick’s as he moves his hand out of the boy’s shirt to grab a handful of curls at the back of his head, pulling so hard Rick’s chin tilts up, exposing the tempting expanse of his neck.

Negan latches his lips onto the boys skin, sucking harshly, lapping his tongue urgently, nipping at the wet, sensitive skin with his teeth as his hips move fast and deliberate.

Rick gasps at the overwhelming jump in pace and fumbles as he reaches a hand out to clutch at Negan’s side

“Gentle, gentle!” Rick calls out, breathless.

Negan’s thrusts come to an abrupt stop then, and his hand loosens around those soft curls, mouth moving away from Rick’s throat.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” Negan apologizes, “I’ve just… I.. fuck-“

I’ve never just made out for the sake of making out, he wants to say, It's always lead to more.

Negan starts again, “We don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for, alright? If I ever do something you don’t fuckin’ want, just tell me and I’ll fuck off, okay?”

“Okay,” Rick nods, looking into Negan’s earnest eyes, “Can we just make out for now? No dry humping or anything? …Felt good though.”

Negan smirks, meets Rick’s lips in a deep kiss.

“Yeah?”

Rick nods, humming as he wraps his arms around Negan's shoulders, keeping him close, “This feels good, too.”

“It does,” Negan agrees, and they keep on kissing, slower now, and very languid.

Negan could kiss Rick forever, he thinks, and he’s willing to put his words to test. But after a while- the true time indiscernible- Rick pulls away.

“You’ve done this plenty of times, haven’t you?” He asks, looking up at Negan.

“Of course I have,” Negan says, staring at Rick’s kiss swollen lips, “Of course.”

But this time it's different. Way, way different. He can’t remember the last time he made out with someone just because he wanted to kiss them. It's always just been the precedent to sex.

“Maybe we should keep on doing this,” Rick says, and Negan’s eye light up.

“You wanna keep on doing this?” Negan says, awed, “You wanna keep on making out with me and shit… Like, regularly?”

Rick nods, sheepish, “Yeah, sure.”

“Why?” Negan asks, hoping to squeeze out of Rick a confession of mutual adoration.

Rick sighs, turns red.

“I’ve… I haven’t been kissed in a long time, okay? If we don’t do this again, I don’t know the next time I’ll ever be kissed. I don’t wanna one day find someone and not know how to even _kiss_ them because I’m.. inexperienced.”

Negan blinks, “So you want practice? You want me to be your sensei?”

Rick laughs, and it kind of hurts Negan's chest, “Yeah, I guess. In so many words.”

Negan smiles, a small, impassive curve of the lips.

_I’ll take whatever you’ll let me have._

“You sure you won’t… regret this later?”

Rick shakes his head no.

“Okay,” he agrees, “I’ll show you the fucking ropes, then.”

Rick smiles, and Negan leans in to kiss it.

But before he can, he hears something, and Rick does, too.

Outside in the hall, a girl yells “ _Goddammit, fuck off!”_ and Negan knows that voice.

“That’s Lucille,” Negan says, worried, and he moves off of Rick, heading to the door to check things out, naturally wearing nothing but his underwear.

He opens the door slightly, enough to see Lucille making her way towards the end of the hall, just a few feet away from Negan’s room, still dressed in her cheerleading uniform for some reason.

A few steps behind her is Simon, still dressed in his basketball uniform as well, staring down at Lucille’s skirt.

Lucille has her arms crossed, ignoring all the shit Simon is saying to try and win her over, and that only rouses Simon even more.

She’s about to turn a corner when Simon yanks her skirt up, revealing a quick flash of her shiny gold cheer bloomers.

Simon laughs and Lucille turns around to face him, face pursed with anger.

As soon as it happens Negan's out in the hall, barking out a, “ _HEY!”_

Simon and Lucille turn to face him.

Simon smirks, unbothered.

“What?” He says, like Negan is a nuisance.

“Don’t you touch her,” Negan says, and his jaw is tense, words seeping out through his teeth with too much calm to be considered normal. He feels his vein pulse in his forehead.

“Negan-“ Lucille butts in, but Simon shushes her, to which she shoots him a look. “Don’t you fucking shush me, bitch!”

“Oh don’t fuss, darlin,” Simon says to her, “I know you’re angry. I can take care of that.”

“You can take care of that by flipping up your own fucking skirt in your own fucking room,” Negan spits, lip curled in anger.

Simon looks past Negan's shoulder, sees Rick by the door of their hotel room, and smirks.

“Negan, why don’t you go ram your little boyfriend? Round two: He’s waiting.”

Negan doesn’t even think about it when he approaches Simon just to punch him in the face. After, when Simon’s on the floor, he does think _God, that feels great_ and he does not relent, throwing punch after punch at the fuckfaced boy on the floor until Lucille and Rick have to pull him off.

A few people are in the halls, having heard the commotion. He hears a few call out for a chaperone.

Negan’s fiery with all the pent up rage he’s ever felt for his teammate, his fists throbbing and shaking and stained with blood as he’s lead back to his room.

He sees Jesus at Simon’s side, staring up at Negan with a look like his actions were unreasonable. But what does that dude know.

“You idiot!” Lucille says when it’s just them three, grabbing a wet cloth and wiping away the incriminating blood on Negan’s knuckles as the teen sits on the bed, “You should’ve just let him fucking talk. They’re gonna kick you off the fucking team!”

“And have that piece of cornshit get away with flipping your skirt? Saying that shit about Rick? Fuck Simon, and fuck that fucking basketball team! That bitch got what was coming, man.”

Lucille lets out a breath, “God, we’re screwed,” she mutters.

“So let’s leave,” Negan says, because he knows she’s right, “Let’s fucking pack our shit and leave on our own, without these motherfuckers.”

Negan thinks maybe they’ll fight him on it, but Lucille calms down and just looks to Rick, and then back to Negan.

“You wanna just leave?” Rick says.

“That’s the plan,” Negan says, “It’ll save me from hearing a whole bunch of fucking yelling.”

“Alright,” Lucille shrugs, “Let’s go.”

-

Rick and Negan get their things and wait for Lucille out front in the mustang.

A few minutes and she comes out running, tossing her bag and herself into the back seat and yelling, “ _Go, go, go!”_

Negan steps on the gas and pulls out of there in no time.

Then they’re on the interstate, feeling victorious, like it's them against the world and they’re winning.

“Mission fucking complete,” Negan says, as they zoom down the highway.

“What now?” Lucille says, giddy with laughter and adrenaline and the joy of being free, “You taking us to flavortown?”

Negan flips her the bird, smiles.

“Where do you guys wanna go?” He asks.

Rick catches sight of an exit sign, and says, “Let’s go to the beach.”

Lucille gasps in agreement, “The beach!!”

It’s winter, but they seem to forget about that with it being seventy degrees at night and all, so the beach it is.

Thirty minutes and they’re there, parking in an empty lot near the ocean, Rick and Negan stripping down to their boxers and Lucille to her sports bra and golden bloomers.

They run all the way down to the shore, kicking up sand, but becoming deterred when they get to the water.

“It’s gonna be fucking cold,” Negan says gravely.

Rick nods.

“Shit,” Lucille curses, “It is-“

Before she can finish her short declaration, Negan’s pushing her towards the water, where she slides on wet sand and falls, the tide washing over her with it’s freezing saltiness.

Before Rick can react, Negan’s hoisting the boy onto his shoulders, concert style, and running into the ocean until the water meets him at the waist, cursing and yelling at the cold as Rick clutches at his head for balance, tugging his dark hair and yelling, “Don’t fucking drop me, I swear to God!” looking at the dark water like it means his own demise.

Negan doesn’t have the heart to purposefully drop him.

He does get heavy after a while, though, and that’s when Lucille comes in.

“How much do you weigh, Rick?” She asks.

Rick shrugs, “I don’t know. Like one-sixty.”

“Pass him to me,” Lucille says to Negan, and Negan does so gratefully.

Rick almost protests, fearing Lucille won’t be able to support him, and he nearly screams when he feels the girl dipping downwards towards the ocean floor, but then she comes right back up.

Then down, then up again.

When Rick realizes the girl is squatting him, he laughs hysterically.

“That’s right, Rick,” she says, “Don’t fucking doubt me. I was powerlifting state champion for my weight class, two years in a row.”

“You know what, I remember that,” Rick chuckles, “What was your PR?”

“Four twenty five squat, three fifteen deadlift, and two sixty on bench.”

“We get it, Lucille, you’re a fuckin’ beefcake,” Negan says, just a little jealous, floating off to the side.

“How much do you squat, Negan?” Rick asks.

“How much did you say you squat again, Lucille?” Negan asks.

“Four twenty fi-“

“Oh, Four twenty six,” Negan says,feigning blase, and Rick laughs and Lucille splashes the boy in his floating reverie.

“So now you’re a cheerleader,” Rick says, back to Lucille, “Why did you quit powerlifting?”

Negan hears this question, and starts laughing so hard his voice goes up an octave and it sounds like he’s shrieking. “T-tell him, Lucy!”

Sheepishly, Lucille admits, “I got hemorrhoids from lifting too heavy… it hurt my ego.”

Negan laughs even harder, and Rick lets out a surprised snort that dissolves into humored giggles.

“Fuck you guys,” Lucille says, grinning and blushing, and she finally dumps Rick into the ocean, the boy shrieking and laughing, joyful tears leaking from his eyes and becoming more salt water in the ocean.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank u all for reading!!! i hope you enjoyed and as always, feedback and constructive criticism are more than welcome <3333


	11. Green

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [gap in the clouds](https://open.spotify.com/user/leeyumpain/playlist/489EY5tObIlqVMSext9PMt), the sun comes out  
>  stay up all night, make u feel alright!!!  
> Oh life!!!

“And say goodbye to the mustang, because you’re grounded for the rest of the break-“

“But Dad! He was… he- he _is_ fucking evil! He deserved it! He was being a dick to my friends!”

“Language!” Negan’s mom says, “No one is evil. And if they are, well, you don’t go around giving every evil person a concussion. You leave it to someone else to give them why they’ve got coming.”

“Yeah, and what if I was that someone else?” Negan says, looking down at his fist, bruised and sore against the kitchen table.

His mom sighs, “Negan, that boy used to be your best friend.”

“He wasn’t ever my friend,” Negan says, dead serious, “I never let him come to the house, and I never did anything outside of school with him like I do with Lucille or Rick. Simon was just my teammate.”

“What about basketball, Negan?” His Dad says, “You love basketball. Your leg was barely starting to get better, and you go and get yourself kicked off the team.”

“Do you know how many scholarships you could’ve gotten? College is not cheap, _Mijo,_ you know that. You were the best player on that team, Negan, you worked so hard to be the best player on that team,” Negan's mom sounds so disappointed, so saddened.

It makes Negan feel guilty.

“I don’t know,” Negan says, “It just doesn’t- I don’t… need it anymore, I guess. For myself. I’ll find scholarships some other way, like everyone else.”

Some silence.

“You don’t need it because Rick is back?” His mother asks.

Negan thinks about that.

“Yeah,” he says, “kind of. The people on that team, not just Simon, are freakin’ jerks. I was a jerk, for a long time, and I’m trying not to be. Rick helped me see that. He reminded me of who I used to be.”

Negan swallows, “I still like basketball. It was a big part of my life, but… I think it’s done its part. I don’t need it anymore.”

His parents take that in, share a look with each other.

“Alright,” Negan’s mom says, “We understand.”

A pause.

“But you’re still grounded,” Negan’s Dad tacks on.

Negan groans, “Why?? I told you, Simon was a jerk!”

“Because you left the hotel!” His mother reminds him, “Something could’ve happened to the three of you and no one would’ve known where you were! And you jumped into the cold water during _winter_ and now Ricky has a cold!”

“Lucille’s the one who dropped him,” Negan murmurs.

“Well I’m sure Lucille’s parents are on her ass right now, too. She was head cheerleader, had so many opportunities as well, and now they’re gone down the drain.”

Negan shakes his head, sighs. He wonders how Lucille feels about that, or how she even managed to get kicked off the team.

She didn’t even do anything. Simon did, and somehow that asshole is in the clear.

Their conversation ends and Negan’s parents send him back to his room with a cup of chamomile for Rick.

Rick is still asleep, snoring so loudly through his congestion it almost makes Negan grimace.

Negan would pinch the bridge of his nose to play a joke on him, but Ricks not even breathing through his nose anyways, so that’s pointless, and sticking his fingers in Rick’s mouth would just be too mean.

Jesus, when did Negan start worrying about being too mean?

He shakes his head, sets the cup down on the nightstand, and slides into the bed beside Rick, moving in close to the boy and feeling the vibrations of his snores through the way he rests his forehead against Rick’s shoulder.

-

Rick is better in a few days time. By New Years Eve he's quite literally up and running, trading the endless and respective cycle of their high schools football field for the ups and downs of long, country roads, devoid of cars or trucks or anything that may hinder him from running.

And when he’s done running his miles, he calls Negan to pick him up.

Negan goes- of course he does- and Rick is always on that same long and vacant stretch of road, surrounded by nothing but brush, the nearest house miles away.

Rick gets in Negan's truck, because the horse is still off limits, and Negan drives and drives until they meet a spot by the city’s landfill.

A private dirt road, belonging to no one but the earth, and clothed in discreet brush.

They park there, and Negan puts on some music, and Rick moves into Negan's lap, and they make out.

Sometimes they make out longer than other times. The first few times, it was just a couple kisses, and Rick would pull away and say, “We should go,” like they’d get in trouble if they didn’t.

Then those couple of kisses turned into a couple of minutes of kissing, then ten minutes, then a half hour, then Lucille’s playlist started looping and they had a habit forming.

It always ended with “We should go,” in that same, sweet angel tone. Rick always looking so cherubic with his flushed skin and his bruised lips.

Negan never thought kissing could feel this fucking good. Never thought that he could literally kiss for hours.

It made him wonder what other things he’d feel good doing with Rick.

It's another day: Negan goes down the same road in his rusty truck.

Today he’s talking to Lucille on the phone.

“I still can’t believe they just fucking kicked you off the fucking squad. Those fucking bitches...”

Lucille sighs, “It’s whatever. Simon told everyone I fucking flashed him, which is…” she sighs, making a disgusted noise, “Why in the hell would I Show that bitch my ass? Not in a million years. Some people just have no taste. Or intelligence, for that matter.”

“Fuck that guy,” Negan says, “Fuck the squad, and fuck the team.”

“You can say that again,” Lucille says, “But I kept the uniform. I looked hot in that shit, figured it’ll come in handy in the future. But yeah, fuck them.”

Negan laughs, “Anyways… I’m sure we’ll find a new crowd. Still got the book club, I guess.”

“True,” Lucille says, “Who needs boozy high school parties full of doglike boys when you can read a good fucking book. That reminds me, I saw your recommendation for Diary of a Wimpy kid, and Negan, we are not ducking reading that shit.”

“Don’t be so quick to fucking judge. Finished that shit in less than an hour it was that good. That shit almost brought me to fucking tears.”

“How old were you when you read that? Like eight?”

“No, this was just last year! God, don’t you fucking remember? I stayed home from school to read the whole goddamn series.”

“Uhhh…..”

In the distance, Negan sees a figure clothed in a hoodie and sweats and running shoes, a beanie on top of brown curly hair.

“I’ll text you later, Lucy,” Negan says, “I’m picking up Rick.”

Negan can hear her smirk, “You mean your little boyfriend? You gonna prompose? Make it official?”

“Fuck you,” Negan smiles, and Lucille chuckles in salute.

Then Negan says goodbye, and she hangs up, and the music resumes.

Negan honks his horn at the boy stretching in the distance, and the boy looks up as the distance disappears.

Rick gets in, smiling at Negan with great blue eyes, and the first thing he does is lean in for a kiss.

Negan smiles back, meets his lips. When they pull away his stomach flushes with a rush of warm heat. The kisses always do that, always make him flood with nerves. But they’re good nerves.

The rest of the drive is tense and impatient, dipped in silence between them as music blares, because they know what’s going to happen next, and those few minutes of driving until they meet their destination feel too long.

But naturally, they end up on that dirt road, concealed by dry brush, and hid away from the world.

As soon as the truck is parked, Rick’s rushing into negan's lap, a fumbling sort of intensity influencing his movements, and Negan can tell he still gets nervous about kissing, about seeming sexy enough or experienced enough.

He kisses Negan with a rushed eagerness, and Negan lets him get those feelings out, lets him take it all out on his lips, going along with Rick’s frantic motions.

Then after a while, a new song starts, and its calmer than them, so Negan tries to match it.

He sets his hands on Rick’s sides, gentle as he rubs, trying to instill that feeling into Rick, but the boy must not be listening.

Negan pulls away, looks up at the boy sitting in his lap.

“Hey,” he says, softly, “We got all day. All week. All next week. Let’s take our fucking time, Alright? Trust me, I’m not moving for shit.”

Rick takes in a deep breath, exhales it out. Negan can feel his body melt and seep straight into his lap, and Rick nods.

Then they continue, easy and deep, the sounds of their lips joining in clicks and smacks only audible to their ears and their ears only, mingling with the music.

Negan likes this song, and he likes Rick.

Rick slips his tongue into Negan's mouth, and Negan relishes in the slick warmth, and in his taste, and in the gentle wave of his body rocking beneath his hands as he slips one beneath the boy’s hoodie.

Rick shivers at his cold hands, and Negan smiles, their rhythm faltering.

Rick’s hands slide down from Negan’s hair to pinch the boy’s cheek, and that’s when Negan laughs and Rick feels it; feels the breath and the vibrations and he pulls away, just so that their open mouths are pressed lips to lips, tongues back in their respected places.

Negan pulls away a little more, just so he can look up at Rick without his eyes crossing.

His other hand snakes into Rick’s hoodie, joining the other in grazing the strong planes of the boy’s shoulder blades as he smiles up at Rick’s face, taking in all his features, flushed wintery and flirty.

Negan thinks it’s amazing they got to meet again, after those two years of Negan forcing himself to never get his hopes up on seeing Rick one more time.

But here he is, and he’s so beautiful.

Negan never wants to be without him again.

 _Life’s what you make it and I wanna make it with you,_ the song sings, and Negan can fucking relate.

His lips meet Rick’s again, after spending too long staring, and this time it's heavy because of Negan, but it’s not rushed, not artificial. It's just full of want.

Negan wants to be so close to Rick, wants to take off his hoodie and kiss his pale skin, but he knows it's too cold and Rick just got over being sick.

He moves his hands up to the front of Rick’s torso, letting his hands wander and feel the boy’s stomach as it flexes and twitches beneath the touch.

Negan’s hands graze at a nipple, and Rick gasps into Negan’s mouth, grapples for the boy’s hand so he can lead those fingers back to that pleasure source.

Negan’s hand goes back easily, pinching and rubbing and rolling that nub between his fingers, feeling how Rick squirms in his lap, involuntarily grinding against Negan's cock, which he’s sure Rick will be feeling soon.

And when Rick feels it, his pulls away from Negan’s lips.

Negan’s expecting those words, that tender “We should go.”

But no, instead Rick scoots back up against the steering wheel, putting space between them as he looks down at Negans lap, moving his hand to lay over the growing bulge in Negan's pants, warmth seeping into his palm.

That small touch makes Negan's head spin, and it’s nothing, absolutely nothing compared to what Negan has done before, but it feels all so new with Rick.

“Can I jerk you off?” Rick asks, and Negan squeaks.

“Can I- I mean, I thought we were just making out?” Negan stutters.

“These things kind of go hand in hand, don’t they? Kissing and.. sex?”

“They don’t have to,” Negan says, gulping as he stares down at Rick’s hand.

“One day they will,” Rick says, “With someone. I wanna know what to do, and I don’t wanna embarrass myself. I wanna be good at it, like you.”

“How do you know I’m good at this?” Negan asks.

Rick swallows, looks down, “I’ve heard,” he answers.

Negan hmphs. At least he’s good at something, huh? Something that isn’t basketball.

Then he sighs, “You sure you wanna do this? Like, _really_ fucking sure?”

“Yeah,” Rick says softly, nodding. His hand moves from the bulge to the button on Negan’s jeans, “I do.”

Negan studies his face carefully, but sees nothing that tips him off.

“Go ahead,” He says, finally, “I’ll tell you what to do if you need me to, but I think jerking me off sounds pretty self explanatory.”

Rick unbuttons and unzips with fervor, eager to get Negan's cock out and have a new experience under his belt, but then-

“Oh,” he says, a bit deterred when he actually gets it out. He remembers it’s his first time seeing another dick that isn’t his own, “It’s… big.”

And he’s not even fully hard yet.

Usually those words would be a compliment, a huge inflation to Negan's already enormous ego, but hearing how Rick shrinks away makes him get all worried.

“We don’t have to do anything, okay?” He assures again, hand on Rick’s, “I can put it right the fuck back where it came from, and we can just fucking make out. Or we can go back to my house. It doesn’t matter.”

Rick shakes his head, brow furrowed with conviction, because he thinks this _does_ matter. “No,” he says, “I wanna do this.”

Negan eyes him carefully once more, watches as Rick takes his cock in his hand, staring down at Negan’s length as he gets a feel of the boy growing in his fist.

Negan breathes out carefully, melting back into his seat.

“Wet your- wet your hand,” he instructs, “Lick it- your palm, I mean- shit, sorry,” and Rick complies, his strokes smoother.

“Now?” Rick says, fist pumping around Negan, motions wary and unsure.

“You ever jacked off before?” Negan asks.

Rick flushes almost immediately, but nods.

“Just go from there, then,” he says, “Try and make me cum, but if I don’t that’s fine.”

Negan looks down at his dick, going in and out of Rick’s fist, the head already glossy with wetness and flushed red.

“I can guarantee you I fucking will, though. Been blue balling myself for far too fucking long.”

Rick moves from base to tip, and Negan groans, writhing a bit.

“What do you like?” Rick asks, sheepishly, eyes flicking up to meet Negan's for just a shy second “What do you do when you jack off?”

Negan hums, eyes falling shut with content, a languid smile dressing his lips, his hips lifting off the seat with the heat that drives him.

“ _Ooh_ \- Look under my bed when we get back to my house, and you’ll get your answer.”

Rick gulps, nods his head, “Oh,” Rick says, voice clipped with surprise, and Negan opens his eyes at the sound, smile morphing more towards glee as he sees Rick is even redder than he was a minute ago.

“Try using two hands,” Negan suggests, “Play with my balls, maybe. Use your fingers to- stroke the head.. yeah, yeah, _right_ below the head. Just rub it- _yeah_ , _fuck!_ Just like that- _mmm_ , fucking kiss me,” Negan directs, voice hinting at a whimper as he places a hand on the back of Rick’s neck, bringing him in to smash their lips together, his moans muffled and broken up inside Rick’s mouth.

As they kiss, Rick’s hands begin to fumble, losing rhythm and dexterity as he focuses on their lips melding and their tongues seeking.

Negan pulls away, until only their foreheads are touching, “Multitasking, Blue,” he sighs, eyes open only for a second before he squeezes them shut, his heavy sigh disturbing the small strands of curls that peak out of Rick’s beanie, “It takes- it takes some time to master..”

Rick looks up, sees Negan’s lips parted and shiny, sees every speckle of stubble, every pore and acne scar, one of the hundreds of thick, dark eyelashes fanning out against his cheeks, the finest lines that appear near his eyes as he squints, but vanish once he relaxes and lets out a deep moan.

Rick feels good knowing that he’s making Negan make those noises, that he’s making Negan’s face turn that shade of pink that absolutely doesn’t match him, that he is that hitch in Negan’s breath, and that hum when he’s rendered speechless.

Rick pulls away even further, pushing Negan back into his seat, and raking his t-shirt up, relishing in the trail of hair from Negan’s dark bush of curls, and up the center of his stomach, resting the sparsest around his chest.

Rick clutches a hand around his ribs, just below his pec, thumb lying directly on the bud of Negan's nipple, rubbing roughly, but looking up at Negan tentatively.

Negan hisses out, sounding pained, but looking utterly blissed, looking up at Rick and nodding as if to say _yes, this is okay_.

He cums looking into Rick’s eyes, burning with heat and spilling over onto himself and on Rick’s fist.

Rick looks proud, seeing that big load of cum on Negan’s stomach and on his own fingers, all because of him, and he brings his free hand down to smear it across the boy’s belly with his thumb, cleaning his hand off on the boy’s skin all while he strokes Negan through his tremors.

He looks down at the boy with his head thrown back in ecstasy and his chest heaving.

Negan looks so spent, so soft and pliant and gooey with his eyelids half open, staring so openly at Rick while Rick stares back.

Negan knows that this has changed things. That now that dicks have been touched, they’ll never be able to stop again and things will just get more and more intense.

Seeing as his legs feel more like a concept than an actual part of his body, just because of a handjob, he’s not sure he can handle that. But he’d like to try.

There’s no harm in a little fun, after all.

As Negan's breath settles, his shirt slips back down, getting caught in the tacky mess of what Rick just made him do.

“Was that good?” Rick asks, still residing calmly in Negan’s lap.

Negan nods, and it feels a little mechanic because he still feels so nice and loose.

He reaches up, fixes Rick’s beanie on his head. It had been slipping off while they were busy, but Negan was too distracted then to fix it.

He isn’t now.

“We should go,” Rick says, hat securely on his head now, moving back into the passenger's seat, “Can I drive?”

Negan looks over at him.

“Fuck no. Not if you’re gonna go ninety.”

“I won’t!” Rick promises.

Negan thinks about that.

“I still don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Why?” Rick whines.

“Cause you haven’t even driven that fucking much!”

“Well then let me drive now! I don’t know, teach me a couple things.”

“I only agreed to teach you how to get good at making out. Now you wanna give me handies and drive my damn truck?”

“You didn’t seem to be complaining this much when I had your dick in my hand.”

Negan gives him a pointed look, but then sighs.

“Fucking fine,” he says, “Switch seats.”

Rick complies easily, and their roles are reversed in a quick moment.

Negan buckles up, reminds Rick to do so as well.

He sighs again, one to keep him at ease and retain his lax.

“Kiss me,” Negan says flatly, watching as Rick gets his hand on the gearshift.

Rick quirks a brow, “Why?” He asks.

“In case you fucking kill us, that’s why.”

Rick rolls his eyes, “I’m not that bad,” he defends, but leans in regardless for a quick peck.

“I know,” Negan smirks.

-

Practicing sexual activities really wasn’t the big revelation Rick had thought it would be.

He didn’t feel older. Or wiser. Or more experienced. If anything, that little scene in Negan's truck just showed him how gravely inexperienced he truly was.

Rick didn’t feel different at all. He just had a huge boner that he was too shy to let Negan take care of, and a whole bunch of sensory images to maybe jack off to in the shower.

Of course, he did only give Negan a handjob, but much like that kiss in the treehouse, nothing changed for Rick after he made Negan come.

It's only been a few hours since it happened, but still.

Rick thinks if things were going to be weird, or if he was going to realize anything, it would have revealed itself the second Negan let out a groan and spilled jizz on Rick’s hand.

Right now, it's just a quarter til midnight, and Rick and Negan are outside, lying on the trampoline, Negan’s arm around Rick’s shoulder pulling him close as they stare up at the sky, looking out for fireworks.

Rick hasn’t been out in Negan’s backyard since he started practically living with him. He was surprised to see the same old trampoline from so long ago, still in the same spot, just below a mesquite tree.

It must still be in good use, too, because the net is clean of all the leaves that naturally fall into it.

Rick remembers years ago, Negan's mom yelling at her son to sweep the trampoline, remembers Negan groaning and whining like the insufferable little kid he was, twigs and leaves and dried up mesquite pods tangled in his and Rick’s hair, as he trudged towards the broom.

The treehouse is still there, too, Rick notes. Raggedy and dangerous looking, but still there.

There’s something new, too- something Rick doesn’t remember: a pool.

It's empty, and the blue paint on the surface is chipped, but already Rick is excited.

It's been awhile since he spent a summer with Negan, and Rick hates the winter. Even if Texas summers are essentially hotter than hell and take up nine months of the year, Rick misses the heat already.

“Do you like fireworks?” Negan asks Rick, after a long moment of silence.

“Kinda,” Rick answers, “They’re nice to look at. Kinda noisy, though. Especially if you’re popping them. I’d rather watch for them than pop them.”

Negan hmphs thoughtfully, and they keep watching the dark, smoky sky.

Then a firework emerges before their eyes, a shower of all these shades of green light.

“Ooh, that one was fucking sweet,” Negan says.

Before Rick can agree with him, another one appears, the same color and Negan yells “Oh!” excited and delighted.

Then another and another and another, all these fireworks interrupting each other in erratic succession: the sound of a new year being invited in.

Rick turns, seeing all the colors reflect on Negan's face, leaving and going as the fireworks burn out.

He kisses the smiling boy’s cheek, “Happy new year,” he says.

Negan turns, eyeing Rick with surprise before it all fades to amuse.

“That one doesn’t count,” he smirks.

“Sure it does.”

“Nope,” Negan says, “Kiss me again. Like, really fuckin’ kiss me. It's a new year, Rick. Show me what you got.”

Rick shakes his head, rolling his eyes, but he moves closer into Negan, nearly on his chest, and Negan meets him halfway.

Rick just gives him a quick peck, contrary to Negan’s mouth, open and expecting.

“That's really all you got?” Negan teases, looking down at the boy smirking against his chest, “Unfucking fair.”

“Shut up,” Rick smiles, “Not everyone’s a giant horndog like you.”

Negan laughs at the word horndog, “Says the one who grabbed my fuckin’ dick and never let go.”

Rick blindly brings a hand to flick at Negan’s face, “I’m going to sleep. Goodbye.”

“Oh no you’re fucking not,” Negan says, sitting up and moving Rick off his chest, “ _we_ are bringing in the new year.”

“What better way to bring it in than sleeping for twelve hours?”

Negan gives Rick a pointed look.

“Get up. Lucille wants us to pick her up.”

“You’re grounded, you can’t go anywhere.”  
  
Negan shrugs, “They’re asleep, they won’t know.”

“Please tell me we’re not going to some dumb party,” Rick groans, still lying on his side, eyes closed.

“You think I can still get into parties now that I’m not on the basketball team? Aw, Ricky. I’m flattered. Now get up.”

Rick groans, “Where are we even going?”

“You ask me like I even have a fucking clue,” Negan says, “C’mon, get up.”

“I’ll stay here. You go.”

“Fucking cmon!!!” Negan whines, “I want you to come.”

Rick laughs, deep and throaty, “So you say.”

Negan rolls his eyes and starts jumping, making Rick’s body rock and sway.

Rick groans again.

It takes a moment, and Negan's thighs start burning, but he gives in.

“Fine,” Rick finally sighs, “Let’s go.”

-

Negan gets to Lucille’s house, and honks his horn. The girl’s out of her house in no time, running off her porch and down the walkway, wearing something short and glittery despite the cold. Negan thinks the giant fur coat on her shoulders thicker than ten blankets must compensate for that.

It’s good to see the girl dressed and made up with her usual gusto. Their talk must’ve really helped her get things sorted out.

“Where are we going that you decided to wear that crazy fucking number?” Negan asks as Lucille squeezes into Negan’s truck, her fur coat taking up half of Rick’s room and getting in the boy’s face.

Rick’s not complaining. It's pretty warm.

“We,” Lucille begins, “are going to have a good fucking time! That’s fucking what… that and I couldn’t think of a better excuse to wear this shit. I just wanted to put glitter on my damn face and body and have everyone see it… and I’m kind of drunk.”

Negan shrugs, puts the car in drive, “Well alright.”

Then they head into town.

They spend so long just trying to figure out where to go, just driving around, Rick and Lucille arguing about what music to listen to, and Rick having to tilt his head up and push down Lucille’s fur coat to look her in the eye.

The community parks are too wet and cold and dark. Restaurants and dives are closed. They’re too young to get into clubs. Too uncool to get into highschool parties. Too antsy to sit through a movie. Too uncreative to think of any place that could be cool to loiter around.

That’s why they end up at the skatepark, because the place is lit up and the cement is dry albeit cold, and there’s a faint smattering of two people there that look interesting.

Dwight’s there, as usual.

He’s either at the skate park or at Creme Cup. Negan's not sure he knows how to go or be anywhere else.

But along with him is a girl with mousy brown hair and an acoustic guitar in her arms. She’s strumming and it sounds choppy and buzzy, but there’s a faint semblance of rhythm there as she looks down at the fretboard and her fingers twisted funkily upon it.

Beside her is a bass- not even an acoustic one to match, but an actual full scale electric bass that looks like it could be taller than Lucille, unplugged and unheard with nothing nearby to help amplify it.

As the three of them get closer, sitting at their usual spot on the edge of the bowl, they hear that Dwight is singing slightly below his voice as he follows the girls guitar playing.

His voice is underwhelming but Negan thinks his ability to skate _and_ sing at the same time without thinking too much about it is pretty cool.

Dwight notices their new company and skates over to them, scraping against the walls of the bowl, saying “Happy new year, guys,” as he does so, and then he’s gone again, his singing resuming as he cruises over towards the girl with the guitar.

He stops in front of her, flipping his board into his hands and looking up at the girl, still singing, syncing up with her and her wonky playing.

They both smile as they meet each other’s eyes, and the song comes to an end.

Thankfully, Negan thinks, because that was a little tough on the ears.

“YES!!” Dwight yells, grabbing the girl by the shoulders and shaking her gently with his enthusiasm, kissing her on the top of the head before saying, “That was the best one yet. Shit, we’re getting good.”

Negan thinks if that was their best one yet, he can’t even imagine them at their worst.

“That was pretty awful,” Lucille says quietly.

“Yeah, it was,” Rick agrees, nodding, “Kinda nice, though.”

They continue to watch Dwight and this girl interact. After a while they look over at the three of them, then they nod at each other, and Dwight’s skating back over to their group.

“Hey Dwight,” Lucille says first, “Who’s the girl?”

“Sup dude,” Dwight says, “That’s my friend Sherry. She’s single, you want me to put a good word in for you?”

“Jesus, I just asked who she was. I’m a lesbian, not desperate,” Lucille says, “She’s hot though…hey, you got any weed?”

“Nah,” Dwight shrugs, “I got some cigs, though. Oh, can any of you guys play a bass?”

“Nope,” Rick and Negan say.

“I can play bass,” Lucille says, “Gimme a cigarette.”

Dwight reaches into the pocket of his dusty pants, pulls out a squished carton of cigarettes and tosses them to Lucille.

“Come over here,” he says, inviting them over with the wave of a hand, “Meet Sherry.”

They meet Sherry and she’s timid but watchful, complimenting Lucille on her coat but warning her about the dangers of cigarette smoking as she lights one up herself.

“You don’t know how to play bass,” Negan says to Lucille as she settles back on the ledge with the instrument in her unknowing hands.

“He didn’t ask me if I knew, he asked if I could,” Lucille smirks, “Can’t be that hard, right? My Dad was a musician. He had a band called the Horny Toads.”

“Shit, that’s a rad name,” Dwight says, “We’ve been looking for some rad names.”

Then Dwight reaches for his bag near Sherry’s feet, pulling out a percussive egg and shaking it as if it were enticing.

“Who wants to play this bitch?”

Negan looks over at Rick, who looks over at Negan.

Negan smirks, “Rick does!”

“No, I- oh, fuck it,” he says, catching the egg being tossed to him.

Dwight shows Rick how to shake the egg in time, Sherry teaches Lucille a simple two note bass line that is nearly inaudible.

Negan watches as they begin playing. It’s rough to watch, truly, but somehow they look to be having fun.

Dwight’s board is off running towards the edge of the bowl, but Dwight is too involved in the music to care.

Negan's watches the wood on wheels travel, watches as it hits a cement edge and comes to a return, all the way back to their side of the park just to bump Dwight softly in the shin.

Then he jumps off the edge, into the bowl.

“Hey, can I borrow this?” Negan asks Dwight, gesturing towards the board.

“Sure dude,” Dwight says, easily.

Negan has always wanted to skateboard, but his Mom never let him. The closest he ever got was one of those rickety Razor scooters that could euthanize a man the size of a whale with one swift swipe at the ankle.

Everytime he begged for a board of his own all he heard was _you’re going to hurt yourself! Do you wanna break a bone?_

Well, Negan’s already been there, done that.

But still he hears those words, both in the mind of his conscience and from Rick as he steps foot on Dwight’s skateboard.

“Negan, you’re gonna hurt yourself! Your leg just healed!” The boy warns, but Negan doesn’t pay attention because he can’t take Rick seriously when he’s shaking an egg.

He’s got his right foot on the front of the board, and he’s trying to use the left to accelerate like he’s seen Dwight do, but he loses his balance and breaks major ass.

Rick sighs, “What did I just say?” He mutters under his breath, looking at the boy who just took a face full of cement.

Lucille snorts, her short stub of a cigarette flying from her mouth, “What a dumbass,” she laughs, coughing when her throat gets too dry.

Negan lies on the floor for a while, ever dramatic, then gets up and tries again.

-

It’s around three in the morning when they drop Lucille off at her house, the girl walking away from the skatepark with a bass in her hand after a few minutes of negotiation and an offer of thirty bucks.

Lucille was always good with words.

Negan has a tear in his jeans, right on the knee, and a matching scrape. There’s a scrape on his elbow, too.

Rick is tired, can barely keep his eyes open. He mumbles out something that sounds like the number of syllables in the phrase ‘goodbye’ when Lucille exits the truck.

Even with the girl gone, leaving a big chunk of space behind her, Rick doesn’t move into the passengers side.

He stays in the middle, pressed up against Negan, his deadweight head of curls drifting off on Negan’s shoulder.

Negan almost feels bad when they get back to his house and he has to shake the boy awake.

Minutes later, they’re lying in bed, still in the clothes they’d been wearing all day because they’re too lazy and tired to change out of them.

Rick is under Negan’s arm, Negan’s nose tucked in the crook of his neck.

“Hey, Negan?”

“Hm?”

Rick smiles, soft and languid and content with exhaust as he thinks.

“I had fun today,” he says.

Negan smiles, too, though Rick can’t see it.

“Yeah?” He says, pressing a kiss to Rick’s neck.

“Mhm,” he hums, then adds, “Happy New year… again.”

“Happy New year, Blue,” he chuckles, lifting his head to plant a half assed kiss on Rick’s cheek.

“Goodnight,” Rick says.

“Sweet dreams,” Negan says, and they’re both asleep just minutes later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank u all for reading! i hope you enjoyed and as always, feedback and constructive criticism are more than welcome :) <33333


	12. Yellow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a world alone by lorde is the songmood for this chapter, i love yall n enjoy :) also srry for typos i was rly tired when i proofread this

School is back in session yet again and honestly, Negan couldn’t be dreading it more.

Dreading it is normal, but after what happened at the away game, Negan doesn’t even want to begin to think about how different people might treat him, or how Simon might begin to torment him.

“Negan,” Rick calls, after Negan has hit snooze on his alarm for the third time, “Negan, we need to wake up.”

Such a sweet voice, but it speaks of sickly, awful things.

“Fuck no,” Negan whines, and he pulls an arm around Rick’s waist and drags him in closer, hooking his chin over the boy’s shoulder and nuzzling his cheek into Rick’s.

Rick pats Negan's head of messy, dark hair, letting his hand linger as he closes his eyes lazily.

“It’s already the third alarm.”

“Might as well fuckin’ stay in bed, in that case.”

Rick sighs, turning in the boy’s arms to meet his slumber shut eyes, “We have to go to school, Negan. I don’t wanna have to make up hours… and I actually wanna graduate on time.”

Yet another whine, and Negan frowns an honest frown.

He sounds truly troubled when he says, “I don’t wanna go to school,” and Rick hears that, sees it in his face.

“Why not?” Rick asks, brow knit with concern.

Negan sighs out, “Because I fucking hate that place.”

“Well, everyone hates school. I hate it, too... The food sucks and the classes are boring, but I mean, might as well just get through it.”

Negan looks up at Rick, says, “I hate school a lot.” 

For the most part it's true- truer than true. 

But still there’s a part of Negan that holds on to highschool like the security blanket that it is. Yeah school fucking sucks and he has to pretend to be this and that but at least it's not the real world, at least he has a few real friends that he gets to see everyday, at least he doesn’t have to pay bills or college tuition, at least he gets to be a stupid fucking kid and no one expects any more of him than that.

Negan hates high school but he also dreads the day that it ends; a classic case of damned if you do, damned if you don’t.

“I’m sorry,” Rick says, voice sincere, and he brings a hand up to rake it through Negan’s hair, gentle as he runs through tangles, nails scratching gently against his scalp.

Negan’s eyes flutter shut at the touch, and he only wants to stay home even more now.

“School’s been bad for you since the day you started goin’, huh?”

“Not too bad these days,” Negan shrugs, “Could be worse.”

However, Negan fears that the worst is coming for him now.

“Do you think you’re gonna miss basketball?” Rick asks, curious and gentle, fingers still moving mildly in Negan’s hair.

“No,” Negan answers, “Definitely not gonna miss that fucking team. The game? Maybe, but I’m kinda fuckin’ over it. If I wanna play with some balls I’ll just go to you, am I right?”

Negan can’t finish that last sentence without laughing, and Rick squints at him, feigning loathing as he yanks at Negan’s hair, making him cry out breathily.

Rick smiles despite himself, because that noise Negan just made sounded horrible.

“Yeah pull my hair, Daddy.”

“Oh God,” Rick says plainly, pulling away and rolling out of bed, his smile never fading, “I hate you… Get up, dammit.”

-

Everyone fucking stares and Negan tries really hard to not notice it. 

Every class he has with Rick or Lucille he uses it his advantage and he never spends one conscious moment not talking. 

He flirts too loudly with Rick and pops the boy’s fingers and knuckles too many times and says stupid jokes that make no sense and shows him stupid videos on his phone just because he couldn’t stand the silence if it ever came.

Lucille doesn’t put up with his nervous banter so much and asks him to politely shut the fuck up from behind the cover of a book he’s supposed to be reading for book club.

Some classes he doesn’t have with Rick or Lucille, and Negan panics thinking about how he’s gonna make it through those classes.

He can just text Rick, he thinks. Yeah, he can text Rick.

Or even better, he can skip those classes.

But then everyone will think he’s a fucking pussy. Shit, he can’t have that. 

Lucky for Negan- or maybe not so lucky, actually- he only makes it through four of his eight daily classes.

He’s on his way towards fifth period, awaiting refuge in this next class with Rick, when he sees Simon on the other side of hall traffic. 

Awkwardly, he catches his eye, but just for a swift second, and then Negan looks down. 

He doesn’t see the smirk pasted across Simon’s pesky face, or the way that sparse teenage mustache bends with amuse.

Negan swallows down his cowardice, lifts his head up, and looks straight ahead and nowhere else, even when he feels Simon’s presence near his.

Negan’s trying so hard to pay attention to the back of people’s heads that he doesn’t see Simon’s foot sticking out in front of his path, and he trips.

There’s the squeak of his soles against the tile, sounding like the song his shoes would sing on the basketball court, and then his body meets the ground with a thud and an  _ oof! _

Negan hadn’t noticed just how loud it had been until everything goes silent.

The first thing he thinks, with his cheek pressed against the cold floor, is that he deserves this.

He deserves this, but he sure as hell wishes it wasn’t Simon who had to dish it out.

After a moment, Negan gets off the floor, his anger induced tunnel vision making him see nothing but Simon.

His chest is heaving and his face is a humiliated shade of red. 

“God, I just loved it when you pulled that one on that Asian kid,” Simon grins, “Such a fucking classic. Had to take it for a spin myself.”

“Fuck you,” Negan grits out.

“Sorry! I only fuck boys that are on the basketball team! Weren’t you..? Oh wait, that’s right, you got kicked off! How fucking embarrassing!”

Negan sees the yellow splotches around Simon’s right eye from the ever fading bruise Negan gave him, sees the faintest scab on his lips.

“Fuck you,” Negan continues, gaining a little more guts, “I don’t give a shit or fuck about that fucking asshole basketball team anymore, you guys can go rot without me- but fuck you for touching Lucille and for getting her kicked off the team when  _ you’re  _ the one who started all this fucking shit!”

Simon, tilts his head, feigning concern, “Don’t give a shit about basketball? Oh, Negan… that’s some  _ serious _ shit.”

Negan narrows his eyes.

“I mean, what are you good for now that you can’t even do the  _ one _ thing that you didn’t suck at? You gonna go back to being some fat little fuck who watches Naruto and jacks off all day?”

Negan’s face falls even more if that’s possible, flushes deeper.

Now he hears the breath of the small whispers from the people around them.

“Yeah, Negan. You think people forgot about that just because you screwed a few chicks? No one fucking forgot. I don’t think you did, either. Because you’re still that little fucking dweeb. Always will be.”

Negan presses his lips together to stop the quivering, closes his eyes for a second as he tries to convince himself all the small snickers he’s hearing aren’t real, but they are.

People are laughing at him.

Again.

His eyes open, and he looks off to the side to see anything but Simon.

“Well?” Simon says, raising his brows, arms crossed over his chest, “Got anything you wanna say for yourself?”

“Yeah,” Negan says, gathering himself so he can look Simon in the eye, “At least this fat fuck knows how to lay up,” a chorus of  _ oohs _ erupts, mostly from Negan’s old teammates, “… and I never stopped jacking off, you stupid fucking idiot. Also I fucked your girlfriend Sophomore year.”

_ OOH! _

“and your boyfriend Junior year,”

_ OOOOH! _

_ “and _ your brother.”

_ OOOOHHHH! _

“By the way he sucks at giving head, probably runs in the family.”

_ OOOOOOOOHHHHHH!!!!!! _

At his highest moment, and before Simon can say anything, Negan leaves down the hall with a smirk and a spring in his step for show, until he’s out of that wing of the building, his resolve breaking as he exits the door and meets the fresh air of the outside.

Maybe he won that one, but if basketball taught him anything, it's that you can’t win them all.

And if high school has taught him anything, it's that he can’t take humiliation very well.

Leaning against the moldy brick wall of the school building, Negan tips his head back and lets out a breath. 

He focuses on some bird in the sky, on the quiet sounds of cars zooming by on faraway streets.

He wishes he was someone else.

He wishes he had a different skin, but the same memories, and stronger bones and a nicer brain.

Despite the mindful pleading, he knows it will never happen, and that he’s stuck as himself. He just wishes that was good enough.

Negan removes his eyes from the sky and takes out his phone to text Rick.

_ Meet me @ the vending machine,  _ he sends,  _ the 1 w the whole grain cheez its. _

Rick, already sound in his respective seat in his economics class, furrows his brow at the text, but still asks his teacher if he can go use the bathroom.

“Why do you need your bag to go to the restroom, Mr. Grimes?” His teacher asks when Rick’s got a foot out the door.

Rick turns back with hesitance, “It’s a.. it’s an… emergency?”

His teacher grimaces, “Just go to the nurse, son. She can give you some pedialyte.”

Rick opens his mouth to question that, brows furrowed in mild confusion, but decides to just roll with it and leaves.

When he gets to the vending machine, he sees Negan just a few feet away from it, sitting on the cement walkway with his backpack perched beside him.

“What’s up?” Rick asks, standing in front of the boy, looking down at him expectantly.

A gust of wind blows, swaying strands of Negan’s already messy hair as the boy just keeps looking down.

When he finally looks up, Rick notices that his cheeks are red and his eyes are vast and sad.

“Nothing,” Negan shrugs, gazing easily up at Rick, face fallen despite his mild tone.

Rick raises an eyebrow, “Nothing? You called me out here for nothing? Mr. Jenner thinks I have diarrhea now for  _ nothing _ ?”

“Wait, what?”

“That’s not the point,” Rick dismisses, “The point is, you called me out here for a reason. So tell me.”

“I’m going home,” Negan says.

“What? But why?”

“Because I can’t fucking stand being here!” Negan says, voice raising. He brings it back down, sighing out and looking away, “I just wanted to let you know, so me being gone wouldn’t be a surprise or some shit.”

“You couldn’t just text that to me?” Rick says, to which he doesn’t get a response.

It takes him a moment to figure out that Negan wants Rick to go home with him. 

He stands there for a minute, then decides to finally sit down beside Negan.

“I have track practice during last period today,” Rick says, “but my track coach loves me. I can just ask him to cut me some slack this once.”

Negan is quiet still, but looks over at Rick. Not at his face, but at his thigh, pressed close to Negans own, knee swaying.

A second later and Rick’s on his feet and the contact disappears.

“I’ll go talk to him right now,” he says, “I’ll meet you in the parking lot in like ten minutes.”

-

Rick is walking through the arts building, taking the shortcut to the football field, zipping through the halls so he won’t get caught skipping when he hears the clink of heeled boots behind him.

“Rick! Jesus, John Paul George and fucking Ringo- stop running! It’s me, Lucille!”

Rick stops, “I wasn’t running,” he says all too quickly. To be fair, he hadn’t exactly realized he had started running in the first place.

“Yeah, okay,” Lucille scoffs, “Tell that to all the skid marks you just blew over by the damn water fountain.”

She catches her breath, then continues, “Fuck it, nevermind, I was just- Is Negan okay? Have you seen him?”

Rick furrows a brow, “Yeah, I just saw him right now. What do you mean is he okay?”

Lucille sighs, and the quirky beret placed atop her curls seems to deflate, looking silly and sad.

“Simon,” is all she says, and that name is explanation enough.

Still she goes on and tells Rick more.

-

Rick can’t stop watching Negan, from the moment he got into the passengers side of his truck his eyes were glued to the side of Negan's skull, thinking to and fro:  _ Why didn't he tell me what happened? _

They get back to Negan’s house after a quiet, pensive ride from the high school, and it’s empty save for a note on the kitchen table and a wad of cash.

Negan reads the note, and Rick reads along, standing on his tiptoes to read over the taller boy’s shoulder.

_ Dad and I are working late. Here’s money for pizza. Make sure all the doors are locked and call us if you need anything. _

_ Love, Mama. _

“Ooh, pizza,” Rick says, already pulling out his phone to order, “That sounds good. What kind do you want?”

Negan sets the letter back down on the table, “I’m not hungry right now,” he says, and heads towards his room.

Rick doesn’t even remember seeing Negan eat breakfast, let alone lunch.

He voices that as he pockets his phone and follows Negan into his room.

Negan just shrugs it off, saying, “People skip breakfast all the time. I’ll eat something later.”

Rick sighs, swinging his backpack off his shoulders and onto Negan's messy bed, zipping through it until he finds what he’d been looking for: a banana, ripe with spots.

“Eat this, now,” Rick says, and when Negan opens his mouth to protest, he adds, “or I’m telling your Mom.”

Negan snatches the banana, peels it, and brings it to his lips with an indignant call of the word, “Snitch..” before he takes a bite, sitting down and grimacing with every swallow.

He looks even worse after having eaten the fruit, somehow, and he gets up from his bed, dropping the banana peel in Rick’s hand and saying, “I need some space” Negan says, looking around at his room, “Need to clean in here; Can you go clean the living room? I’ll take over things in here, I just need some space right now.”

Rick blinks, “Okay,” he nods, and he tries not to let his concern show, does his best to leave without another word.

When Negan feels alone enough, the nerves come rocking in.

He was doing so fucking good before all of this. Sure he had gained a couple of pounds over the holidays, but that was typical, and he didn’t feel so guilty about that like he usually would. 

Negan was feeling good about his body. 

Kissing Rick and making out with him and cuddling him and having Rick give him a handjob here and there made him feel sexy, made him feel desired in a way that was more than skin deep.

Now Negan's a little embarrassed, a little unsure. Everyone remembers little fat kid Negan, because Negan will always be that little fat kid.

Maybe that’s why Rick doesn’t want Negan touching him: because Negan’s gross and getting fat again and Rick, with his runners body and his handsome fucking face, is too polite to say something about it.

Maybe that’s it.

Negan attempts to make his bed, but the fitted sheet keeps on shrugging off the corner every time he tries to tuck it in and it's such a metaphor for his fucking life, it upsets him and makes him cry.

He falls onto his naked bed with defeated tears in his eyes. 

“You okay?” Negan hears from his doorway.

It’s Rick.

Negan rubs at his wet eyes, sniffles up the wetness in his nose.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m okay, I’m fine but-“ his face wrinkles, voice getting stretched out with the underlying distress and frustration that comes to meet him yet again, “I can’t fucking make this stupid fucking sheet stay in its goddamn fucking place and it’s pissing me the fuck off!”

“Let me help you,” Rick sighs, eyeing Negan warily as he goes to grab half the sheet out of Negan’s hands, “You do this edge, I'll do that edge, okay?” He instructs gently.

“Okay,” Negan mumbles.

They finish making the bed together, and once the last pillow falls into place, Negan is dumping his lump of a body onto their pristine work- but his lay is in not in victory or triumph, just that same old tired defeat that stained his cheeks with tears not minutes ago.

Rick lays carefully beside him, still donning concern.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Leave me alone, Rick,” Negan says, voice muffled by the pillow his face is buried in.

“Negan,” Rick huffs, stern, “I know you’re not okay.”

“Then why are you fucking asking me?!” Negan snaps, looking pointedly up at Rick.

“Because I want you to talk to me, dammit!” Rick snaps right back.

Negan bites his tongue at that, sighs, looks away.

“What do you wanna talk about?”

Rick softens, “I wanna know what’s botherin’ you.”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Negan scoffs weakly.

“I mean, not really,” Rick says, “Obviously it's Simon, but like… what about him? He was a dick and you don’t have to associate with him anymore. Isn’t that a good thing? Or maybe, you just miss your comradery, or somethin’? I really don’t get it.”

Negan turns back into his pillow, embarrassed.

“You saw how it was back then, Rick, from fucking kindergarten to seventh grade. How fucking pathetic and disgusting I was. Everyone fucking saw it.  _ Everyon _ e made fun of me.  _ Everyone _ .”

“I didn’t,” Rick cuts in.

“Maybe you fucking should’ve. Little fucking fat kid who’s adopted and watches anime- who wouldn’t make fun of me, man? Who the fuck wants to be friends with that? I was a fucking nerd,” Negan gulps, as if it’ll dispel the tears he feels stinging at his eyes, “I can’t be that again. I worked so hard to not be like that again. I mean, anime still goes fucking hard, but like… I’ve cut down some… and I joined the basketball team and lost some weight, fucked some people. I can’t be that kid again. I don’t think I could make it through the fucking humiliation. I still live with the self loathing- that’ll never go away- but God, if I can make other people not hate me, I’ll try my damnedest.”

“I loved you back then,” Rick says, unabashed but full of taut emotion. His heart breaks hearing Negan speak of his younger self as though he was a monster or a vice or something forsaken by God; it breaks as he hears Negan speak of vanishing any semblance of that kid to death, “You were my favorite person ever. My best friend in the whole world,” Rick smiles, and it’s wobbly and teary eyed, “I had the biggest crush on you, I never wanted to do anything but be around you. Everyone else was- was fucking lame,” Rick laughs, tears falling down onto his cheeks. 

Negan watches in sorrow as Rick wipes them away quickly, pauses, then continues with a sigh, “When I came back Freshmen year, I hated you the second I saw you. You just… I- I couldn’t recognize you. Mostly because you lost weight and got taller.. and gayer, but other than that you just looked so- so _mean_. You looked like everyone I ever hated for making fun of you, and I thought _wow,_ _he really let them get to him._ ”

“You were the only one I had and you left,” Negan defends, voice gruff, “I didn’t know how to fucking fight them anymore. So I had to  _ be _ one of them.”

“You were the only one I had, too.”

Negan rolls his eyes, “You had Shane.”

“That was different. Shane was my boyfriend for a few months, you were my best friend since we were six years old. No one can compare to that. Not even now.”

Negan sniffles, grinds his jaw pensively.

“Lately, I’ve been seeing a lot more glimpses of the old you,” Rick says, and before he thinks Negan's brain can attach any negative meaning to that, he adds, “And not because you gained two pounds, or because you ask me too much to power up your rasengan, but because I see it in your eyes: that warmth. That kindness. I got to see it here when you kissed your parents goodnight and when you let me sleep over, and I saw it when you talked to Lucille in or outside of school. I never saw it more than that, but lately I’ve been seeing it a lot. I’ve seen you high-five Glenn in the hallways and listen to what people say in book club- actually listen. I saw it in your eyes when you beat up Simon, and I see it when you pick me up after I’m done running. You’re starting to be sweet again. Please don’t let that go away because of the opinions of people that don’t even care about you, or know you.”

Negan takes it all in, lets it simmer.

In the end, of course, what stands out the most is: “You loved me? Even though I was… chubby?”

“Puppy love,” Rick supplies, “but yeah, I did. You were cute, and you were sweet. I liked you for you.”

Past tense. It's all past tense, but Negan will take it gratefully.

“Cute and sweet, huh?” A small smirk moves onto Negan’s lips, and he quirks an eyebrow, “Interesting… well, what the hell am I now? Sexy and mysterious? Ripped and gay? Athletic and hot?”

Rick laughs, leaning in closer to Negan, rolling in further and placing a hand on the boy’s cheek, “You're a pain in my ass is what you are now,” he says, and Negan's smirk grows, chuckles seeping out the crooked edges as his eyes skim Rick’s face, finally settling on his lips.

While he’s close, Negan leans in for a kiss- just a quick peck, grin to grin. It makes a warm wave crash in Negan’s stomach.

Rick kisses him back, twining his fingers in that messy head of hair and making him stay put so their mouths can move together.

But soon that hand travels, and it meets Negan's groin and the bulge that grows and grows. Negan’s clothes come off and Rick gives him release, every moan and ragged breath making Rick’s own cock strain against the rough material of his jeans.

“Oh fuck, did we get any on the sheets?” Negan asks, lazily tilting his head up to give a half assed glance at his bed.

“No,” Rick says, pulling the boy’s boxers back up his hips, “Just on you… and my hand.”

Negan smiles, looking over at the boy who’s looking down at his hand, stretching his fingers out and in, watch the pearly substance lay on his skin.

Negan grabs his hand, guiding those fingers to his mouth and wrapping his lips around each one, swirling his tongue and sucking them clean, relishing in the shocked look of arousal on Rick’s face as he does so.

“You’re sick,” Rick says once Negan pulls off, but his dick is so hard it aches and throbs, and his legs squirm a little.

Negan sees that dazed look in his eyes, sees his pupils utterly blown. 

Rick looks pretty with dark eyes.

“Want me to take care of that for you?” Negan asks when his gaze falls on Rick’s lap.

Rick starts babbling, saying, “oh, well- um, I um,”

Negan runs a hand down Rick’s hip, finger catching the belt loop to Rick’s jeans, “You don’t want me to get you off?”

Rick’s hips twitch, lips falling open, “I, Well… I- I want... I’d like it if-“

“Yes or no, Rick. Don’t beat around the bush, I can take a no,” he says, and while his body could, he’s not so sure his ego could. 

Rick sighs.

“I do, I do want to get off, but-“

“Then let me get you off,” Negan says, “It’ll be good. I’ll make it good for you. I’ll suck your dick, I’ll jack you off- anything you want. It can be as easy as that.”

Rick sighs, gaze faltering, “I’m scared. Terrified,” he admits, honestly.

Negan frowns, “Of what, Blue?” He asks gently.

“Not being… good.”

“Don’t worry about that,” Negan assures, “If you make me cum, it’s fucking good. It’s  _ gold _ . If  _ you _ cum- Christ, it’s fucking  _ holy. _ No matter what, it’s always good. Always…. So anything you want, I’ll fucking give it to you.”

Rick looks up at Negan, still wary, but building more trust. He believes Negan.

“But it’s- it’s not just that, either.”

Negan furrows a brow, hooks another finger through Rick’s belt loop.

“What else is there?”

Rick frowns.

“This changes a lot of things… for me,” he confesses, “Apart from the handjobs, I’ve never done anything like this before, and- and with everything going on it just feels like… like I’m not some kid anymore, you know? ...I’m applying to colleges, writing essays for scholarships, thinking about summer jobs. I’m getting to that age where I actually have to start thinking about my future, where I’m becoming an  _ adult _ , and that scares me.”

Negan nods softly, because he can definitely understand that.

“Now I’m having sex, and it's just.. it almost symbolizes that.”

“Symbolizes what?”

“That I’m not a kid anymore,” Rick sighs deeply, shaking his head, “That I’m only getting older.”

Negan thinks on that.

He remembers how he’d been just as nervous about sex as Rick during his own first time, mostly just because he was afraid his body wasn’t nice enough.

It was the last day of his freshman year, and he was at a party, making out with some soon to be high school graduate, and sooner than later, clothes started falling off.

He was shy and soft until the moment praises fell from his partners lips, full of validation Negan always searched for in vain until that day.

After that night, Negan searched for that same validation everywhere, but no matter what he always found it in sex or during woes of lust and desperation.

That pursuit changed everything for Negan.

“We don’t have to do anything,” Negan reassures, repeating himself, “You can hold onto that as long as you want.”

_ If I don’t do it now, I never will,  _ Rick thinks, so he does his best to set those nerves aside, pretends to be someone not so sentimentally juvenile.

“Can we just dry hump?” Rick asks, wary, “I don’t think I’m ready to be naked yet… feels too real.”

“Okay,” Negan says, nodding, “That’s fine, but I’m still pretty sensitive, so this is gonna be a little different.”

“Different?” Rick says, getting a little nervous, “What do you mean?”

“Don’t worry, don’t worry. You’re good,” Negan says, and he moves Rick against the headboard, encouraging him to strip down to his boxers and sit.

“Open your legs like I’m gonna sit between them,” Negan instructs, palming Rick’s cock as he does, “Like we’re gonna watch tv or read together or some shit.”

Rick obliges, and Negan does in fact go to sit between them, lying his head back lazily on Rick’s shoulder, his back pressed to Rick’s chest.

Negan feels a stiff length grinding shyly against his ass.

When Rick’s breath hitches and his thrusts grow more enthusiastic, Negan smiles.

“Is that good?” Negan asks below his breath, turning his head to sloppily kiss at Rick’s flushed neck, deep voice a rumble as he grinds back onto Rick, “Does that feel good?”

Rick makes a broken noise, startled hands coming up to grip Negan's hips, pushing the boy back onto his cock as he thrusts up into Negan's ass.

Negan hums, “Grind on my fucking ass, baby. Can I call you that now? Can I call you baby?”

Rick lets out an anguished groan, head knocking back onto the headboard, hands gripping tighter onto Negan's hips to the point where it's almost painful.

“Call me whatever the fuck you want,” Rick pants, desperate, “I just wanna,  _ ohh,  _ cum.”

Negan laughs, kisses Rick’s neck again, all the way down to his collarbone as best as he can with the angle.

“Cum, baby,” Negan spurs, “I want you to cum so fucking hard. Can you do that for me?”

“Maybe if you shut up, I could concentrate a little more.”

Negan snorts, “Fine, fine! No dirty talk, got it.”

Rick leans into Negan, wrapping his arms around the boy’s middle and thrusting harder, more erratic as he chases his orgasm, gasping into Negan's shoulder before he bites down on the thick flesh.

It feels so good, being pressed so close to someone, having someone so bent on giving him release.

All of his nerves are gone as he gets lost in the woes of pleasure, and he cums with one last hard thrust against Negan's ass.

He’s not sure how he got on his back, but soon Negan's between his legs, saying, “Let me see that fucking load,” and Rick only opens up wider, letting Negan in between his hips so the boy can stuff his face in Rick’s groin, kissing across the softening length of Rick’s cock through his boxers, licking at the wet spot and mouthing the bulge, searching for the faint hint of bitterness in the soiled fabric.

When negan comes back up, he sees the flushed, spent head of Rick’s cock peeking out of the waistband, shiny with cum. 

He doesn’t think he’s ever wanted someone in his mouth so bad.

“Can I taste it?” Negan asks, eagerly, before he can even help it.

Much to his surprise, Rick nods, just as eager to receive as Negan is to give, and soon he’s closing his mouth around the sensitive plummy head, savoring the taste of Rick, tongue swirling as Rick moans, his thighs shuddering with oversensitivity.

He pushes at Negan’s head weakly, letting out a keen whine as Negan slides off with a pop, licking his lips.

“C’mere,” Rick mumbles languidly, pulling Negan up into his arms, capturing his lips in a deep kiss, tasting the fruits of their activities on Negan’s filthy tongue.

“Was that good?” Negan asks, pulling away and planting a kiss on the corner of Rick’s softly smiling mouth.

“Oh yeah,” he grins, lax and dopey, “We should do that more often.”

Negan rolls his eyes fondly, “That’s how it fuckin’ starts, babe.”

-

It’s later on in the evening- not late enough that the sun has set, but late enough that the sky is darkening, and darkening fast- and Rick and Negan are folding their laundry.

They’ve cleaned themselves up from the mess they made before, and went on from there, cleaning the rest of Negan's room and the living room and so on and so on.

Now they’re in the laundry room, listening to the sounds of whatever music plays from Rick’s phone, as well as the curses falling from Negan’s lips when his fingers graze a too hot button from some pants fresh out of the dryer.

Everytime it happens, Rick laughs. 

Until it happens to him, and then he sees how awful it feels.

Then Negan laughs at Rick, and the cycle continues between their flowing conversation.

“I need to talk to the counselor about my schedule,” Negan says as he folds his own underwear, “I have to get out of all the classes that were requirements to be in basketball, cause fucking obviously I’m not in basketball, but I don’t know what classes to take.”

“How many free classes will you have?” Rick asks.

“Just like two, I think.”

“You should join yearbook,” Rick suggests, excited at the proposition, though he tries not to show it, “Michonne’s been trying to get new photographers.”

Negan makes a face, “Isn’t that a little… fruity?”

Rick rolls his eyes, slapping Negan with one of his own t-shirts, “ _ You’re _ worried about seeming fruity? You: the guy who just sucked the tip of my dick a few hours ago?”

Negan slaps him back, weaponizing a pair of pajama pants, “Fucking fine!” He laughs, “I’ll think about it… sounds kind of fun actually. We can take pictures of our dicks touching and put them on the after school activities page. How’s that for a fuckin’ Senior prank?”

Negan earns another hard slap of fabric against his side, and a dirty look.

“Take me home,” Rick says, suddenly as he remembers, and Negan's face falls.

“Jesus, Rick, I’m sorry! It was just a damn joke-“

“No, not because of that,” Rick says, smirking at Negan's reaction, “I wanna show you some pictures I took at the Halloween festival in the park. Someone spiked the punch and I got a picture of some real funny looking dude spewing chunks like the Exorcist while he was on the swing set.”

“Say no more,” Negan smirks, but then it falls as he realizes, “Wait- you’re gonna let me drive you to your house?”

Rick falters, “Well.. not all the way. Maybe stop like a block away?”

“Why?” Negan asks, curiosity getting the best of him.

“Because,” Rick reasons, “I just… there’s somethings I want to keep private.”

Negan blinks, looks down at Rick. 

He figures that the boy even letting him anywhere near where he lives is a good development.

“Okay,” Negan says, “That’s a-oh-fucking-Kay with me.”

-

Rick hasn’t been home in a while. 

Luckily, when he gets to his aunt's apartment, he sees all the lights are off. 

He rattles the knob and feels that it’s locked.

That means no one’s home, but who knows how long that’ll last.

Hurriedly, Rick pulls a key out of his pocket, fumbling in the dark.

“Hey,” a voice says from behind him, startling Rick to where he jumps, dropping his key, “I know you.”

Rick turns, eyes wide, and he can barely see two feet in front of him because it's dark out now and Rick hasn’t had much time to let his eyes adjust.

Then a lighter flicks, softly illuminating the face it sits under.

The face is scruffy with big blue eyes, framed by long brown hair that falls against a leather jacket, a cigarette hanging from pink lips.

Rick recognizes this guy. He’s on the basketball team; he helped Simon off the ground that night at the hotel.

“You’re the sports trainer, aren’t you?” the teen asks, eyeing Rick carefully, “I’m Jesus, but you can call me Paul if you want.”

Rick just stares some more, brows twitching to furrow.

“And your name?” Jesus prompts, slightly impatient.

“Rick,” Is all Rick says.

Jesus hmphs, then eyes Rick a little longer, a smile curving his lips, making his cigarette slip out just a bit.

Then Jesus is bending down, and Rick is startled until he finally comes up, Rick’s key in his hand.

He hands it back to the boy, fingers brushing against Rick’s palm a little too obviously.

Rick tenses, and Jesus chuckles.

“You’re cute, Rick,” he states easily, “Like Valentine’s day card cute. Prom queen cute. Love letter cute… you get what I mean.”

Rick says nothing, but inhales sharply, smelling tobacco and wintery air.

Jesus takes that as a queue to leave, and so he does.

“I’ll see you later, Rick,” he says before he goes.

Rick stands there like an idiot for a few seconds. 

Then he shakes his blushing head, and goes back to unlocking the apartment door.

“God, what took you so long?” Negan says when Rick finally returns, cased camera in his lap, “The heater in this truck fucking sucks tit, man. My dick is shriveled to shit, it’s so cold.”

“Couldn’t see too good in the dark,” Rick says, and it's only partially a lie.

Negan shrugs it off and rubs his hands together for warmth, then rests an arm behind Rick’s seat, hand lying over Rick’s shoulder, “Well, let’s see these fucking pictures, Ricky! You know I love a good projectile vomit pic.”

Rick scoots in closer to Negan, pulling out the camera and leaning into the boy.

They laugh as they look at the pictures, because they’re so poorly taken, and the vomiting boys eyes are illuminated in that cryptic looking red.

Negan wipes his eyes free of humored tears, and Rick snorts into Negan's shoulder.

“Oh God, you’ve got perfect fucking timing,” Negan says, and then he removes his hand from around Rick, starting up his truck, putting it in drive, “Now, let's go visit the scene of the crime.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and there is the introduction to a very ooc Jesus...   
> Thank you all for reading!!! I hope you enjoyed and as always, feedback and constructive criticism are more than welcome <333


	13. Cerulean

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> song mood is stay away from my baby by banes world!!! on the playlist :)

Negan buys a skateboard.

Ever since he rode Dwight’s board that night at the skatepark, he’d been craving that free feeling of letting your body roll off on some wood and some wheels.

Sure, he doesn’t  really know how to ride those things, still couldn’t build speed or keep his balance without throwing his arms out in funny ways, but it was fucking fun.

And without the company of basketball, he had more time on his hands to get better at skating.

Rick and Negan are out buying groceries for their parents at the collosal Walmart that was just built in their town maybe a month ago, Rick manning the cart and reading off their shopping list while Negan grabs things off shelves and tosses them in.

“The list doesn’t say Oreos, Rick!” Negan scolds, grabbing the boy’s wrist before he can drop the plastic package in the cart.

Rick gives him a petulant look, “The list didn’t say fruit gushers either, you hypocrite.”

Negan matches his petulance, squinting his eyes at the boy before giving in.

“Touché,” Negan says, dropping the boy’s hand, letting the Oreos fall into the cart, “But don’t ask me for any gushers cause you can’t fucking have any.”

Rick murmurs something under his breath about that, but doesn’t speak up when Negan questions him.

They skim through the freezer section, and then Negan’s yelling out _hot pockets!_ in tune with the infamous jingle as they skim through the aisle and even when they’re out of the grocery section of the store altogether.

He doesn’t stop saying it until they get to the toys, and that’s when he starts yelling _Hot Wheels! Beat that!_ like it's a damn mantra.

It's only when his eyes land on the cheap skateboards that Rick’s ears get a break, and Negan is silenced after a single, entranced _ooh_..

Once Negan gets a hand on the board, however,  Rick’s mild relief vanishes in the blink of an eye.

“Don’t!” Rick yells out, but it's too late; Negan’s already got one foot on the board and the other pushing against the floor, getting those plastic wheels a-rolling, until inevitably he skids to a screeching stop and tumbles to the ground, “Dont… do that,” Rick finishes, sighing out his words.

Rick has seen the boy fall off a skateboard so much now that it's not even funny anymore.

“Are you okay?” He asks, watching the teen pull his gangly body off the ground.

Negan doesn’t answer the question because he only has one thing on his mind.

“I’m buying this,” Negan states, putting the board in the cart, then giving Rick a pointed look, “Don’t tell my parents.”

“Why do you want that?” Rick asks him, slightly frustrated, “Do you wanna break your other leg? Maybe an ankle? Or an arm? A wrist? Negan, this just sounds like a bad idea.”

Negan puts his hands on his hips, indignant, as he searches his surroundings for words.

“Have you ever ridden one of these bad boys?” Negan asks.

“No,” Rick says, “I like having my bones _not_ shattered.”

“Do you remember the razor scooter we always used to fight over?”

“Of course,” Rick says, softening slightly, though his arms are still crossed against his chest.

“Do you remember how fun that shit was? We were literally cruising for a fucking bruising, but we didn’t give a shit. This is kinda like that,” Negan says, nodding to the board in the cart, “except it’s now.”

Rick sighs out.

That razor scooter _was_ pretty fun.

“I can’t stop you, Negan,” He says finally, “But… buy some pads, or something, dammit. A helmet. Maybe two.”

Negan smirks, chuckles out a laugh, plonking a quick kiss to Rick’s forehead, “You got it, sugar.”

-

“You look like a fool,” Dwight says upon seeing Negan at the skatepark.

Negan, equipped with his daisy duke basketball shorts, pink elbow and knee pads, Spider-Man helmet, and his Walmart skateboard, doesn’t understand why Dwight would say such a thing.

Dwight gawks, and upon further inspection, says, “Is that a _Walmart board_? Dude, are kidding me right now, man?”

“What? It was like twenty bucks.”

“Exactly!” Dwight says exasperatedly, but then gives up, “You know what, just… come with me.”

Negan shrugs, but obliges, following Dwight to his old, rinky dink car.

“You can have my old board,” Dwight says, popping open the trunk, and rifling it out, “It’s a Girl board, so you’re welcome. Good first board.”

“A girl board?” Negan questions, “They make boards for girls and boys? What’s the difference?”

“No, not a girl board- a _Girl_ board,” Dwight says.

“You just said the same fucking word, man.”

“ _Girl_ is a brand,” Dwight explains, flipping the board backwards, showing off an utterly distressed logo design that looks exactly like the girl figurine you’d see plastered on a bathroom door, “All skateboard are the same. Unless you wanna go into specifics, but specifics are for weenies, man.”

“Now,” Dwight continues, nodding towards Negan’s Walmart board, “Let me see that atrocity.”

Negan hands it over, and Dwight snaps it over his knees.

“Hey!” Negan whines, “You owe me twenty dollars, bitch!”

“I just gave you a hundred and fifty dollar board, dude.”

“Oh yeah.”

Dwight chucks the carcass into a trash can nearby and he and Negan stroll back over to the center of the skatepark- not in the bowl, but on the smooth, level slabs of cement.

“First of all, dude,” Dwight says, kicking his board up into a standing position, “We gotta talk about those pads. Nice color, really I dig it, but they gotta go.”

“But Rick wanted me to wear them,” Negan explains.

“You can’t let your boy dictate how you skate, man,” Dwight says, and he sounds truly apologetic, “You know what they say: If you don’t eat your meat, you can’t have any pudding… I think the Beatles said that. But in this case, meat is some harsh blows… and pudding is landing some epic tricks.”

“It was Pink Floyd,” Negan says, “and Rick’s not my boy.”

“Saw you licking whip cream of his nose at Creme Cup the other day…”

“ _Not_ my boy,” Negan repeats, holding back on the _yet_ that lingers so softly in his mind.

“Well, since he’s not your boy, then I guess he won’t mind too much if you forget the pads,” Dwight says, “I’m just gonna teach you how to cruise around today, anyways. You shouldn’t take any major blows. Not even a few scrapes, actually.”

Negan purses his lips, weighing out the odds.

“Alright,” he ultimately decides, “but I’m fuckin’ warning you: I do _not_ take pain well.”

“Yeah, I got that pretty well when you passed out over the nosebleed my board gave you.”

“...You’re a bitch for that,” Negan says, “the weed brownies were pretty good though.”

Negan strips off his gear, and is left vulnerable to the mean ole concrete floors.

He gets away with a scrape on the knee and a cut on his chin.

It bled a lot but it barely even hurt, and two days later it left a scar.

Negan thinks it makes him look cool and rugged, but Rick thinks it makes him look clumsy.

Either way, Rick can’t keep his hands off of Negan, so it must be doing something.

Rick can’t keep his hands off Negan and Negan can’t keep his mind off of Rick.

-

_‘I’m hornyyyyyy!!!!’_

Rick gets the text not ten minutes after Negan has been called to the counselors office during the beginning of class, and its embellished with some tongue emojis, some splash emojis, and some weary face emojis.

 _‘Ur in the counselors office negan,’_ Rick texts back, ‘ _thats gross.’_

 _‘Actually I’m outside her office… waiting. Thinkn abt ur sweeet ass,’_ Negan adds a handful of peach emojis for good measure.

_‘U r NOT sexting me in school.’_

_‘Noodz or gtfo bb.’_

_‘Stfu.’_

Rick hopes that will be the end of their conversation, and for a moment, he believes it is.

When there’s only five minutes left of class, Negan texts him again.

Rick sees the banner on his lockscreen, sees the preview of the photo, and his face flushes the deepest red the world can fathom.

Warily, he opens up the message, and there it is: Negan’s painfully hard cock, gripped tight in his hand.

 _‘So hard 4 u,’_ is what it says, and Rick gulps, biting down on his lip, looking warily around from side to side, moving around in his chair as his pants start to get a little uncomfortable.

_‘NEGAN WE R AT SCHOOL,’_

_‘yea Ik so meet me in the janitors closet over by the staff bathroom… b there or b square.’_

Rick looks at the clock; two minutes until the bell.

 _‘I’m not goin…_ ’ he sends.

 _‘Pls bby???’_ Negan sends, _‘don’t leave me hangin :(‘_ then, _‘btw if u change ur mind, knock to the rhythm of skunk in the barnyard so ik its u,”_

-

Rick walks really slow to his next class- so slow the tardy bell rings before he can even make it there- just so he can tell himself _well, you’re already late, might as well just meet up with Negan._

That’s how he ends up knocking skunk in the barnyard onto the door of the janitors closet, Negan opening up the door and yanking him inside the second his melodious password was presented.

Negan grabs him by the waist and pushes him against the wall, a cart of cleaning solution and dirty mops jostled in the midst of it.

“Knew you wouldn’t leave me hanging,” Negan hums in between the messy smooshing of their lips. He runs his hands under Rick’s shirt, rubbing at warm, shuddering skin, “You’re too fucking sweet.”

Rick smiles against Negan’s lips, letting out a content moan.

“Maybe I just came here so you could get to suckin’,” Rick smirks, trailing his lips from the corner of Negan's mouth, right down the slope of his neck, “You smell good,” Rick says, nuzzling his nose against the freshly shaven skin before he sucks a quick kiss into the unmarked flesh.

Negan moans, says quickly, “Thanks, it's my natural musk.”

Rick pulls away, giving Negan a disbelieving look that despite itself, is bordering on entertained, “Your natural musk smells like dove body wash?”

“Hey, I can't control the fuckin’ laws of nature, Blue.”

Rick laughs, pushing down on Negan’s shoulders, urging him to his knees.

Negan goes gratefully, quickly unzipping Rick’s jeans and pulling his dick out, giving the boy a few tugs before swallowing him down, feeling how Rick grows hard right in his mouth.

Rick has a hand on Negan's head, guiding him up and down his cock.

Negan's got a hand down the front of his pants, rubbing his own length, getting himself off as he gets Rick off.

“ _Oh_ \- Oh shit, Negan, I’m- I’m gonna… cum,” Rick hisses out, fingers tightening around black strands, tousling the hair of the boy on his knees.

Negan pulls off, eagerly stroking Rick’s wet, shiny cock, mouthing at his balls as he quickly says, “Cum in my mouth,” and swallows Rick right back down.

And what can Rick do but just that?

Negan takes in Rick’s load and releases his own against the denim of his jeans.

Then he pulls off, planting a gentle kiss on the tip of Rick’s dick that makes it twitch with sensitivity.

“Love that fucking cock,” he says, “ _Mmm_ , you taste so damn good.”

Rick just looks down at him lazily, smiling lazily.

Negan feels like there’s something in that smile, and in those eyes, something more than just an orgasmy glaze.

Before he can look any further into it, the door is opening, and Rick and Negan are scrambling to look decent, and a girl is gasping.

They recognize Michonne, standing there with the door still wide open, a ghastly look on her face, “What the- Oh god, Rick? Is that you? With _Negan?_ Oh, I knew it!”

Negan tugs her in, saying, “Close the door, dammit!” and Michonne shrinks out of his grip and gags because his hand is wet with foreign fluids.

“It smells like a sperm bank in here,” Michonne says, frowning and shrinking into the corner of the cubicle like closet.

“Well yeah… cause there’s sperm in here,” Negan rolls his eyes, searching for a string to tug to turn the light on.

He finds it, and out of the dark they go.

Both of their gazes turn to Rick, naturally, and the boy is standing there quietly, his pleasured flush carrying a layer of embarrassment.

Negan forgets a lot that Rick isn’t out yet, and everytime he remembers it seems to be at the worst times.

“I mean… there’s no sperm in here…” Negan says, looking at Rick with wide, apologetic eyes, then over at Michonne.

“I can smell it on your breath,” Michonne scoffs, deigning to look at Negan for a few seconds before she turns back to Rick, “Actually, I was looking for you, Rick. Wasn’t planning to find you here… with him… but, it’s whatever.”

“Look, you can’t tell anyone about this, okay?” Negan says, much more serious, speaking on Rick’s behalf, because Rick is too ashamed to, “Rick’s not out yet.”

“I won’t tell anyone,” Michonne says easily, “ _But_ I need you to help me.”

Negan raises an eyebrow, “So you’re just gonna fucking blackmail us? That’s a low fucking blow.”

Michonne gives Negan a look, pointedly repeats, “I won’t tell anyone _and_ I need you to help me.”

“With what?” Rick asks, finally speaking up.

Negan backs him up, “Yeah, with what? What were you even doing coming into the janitor's closet?”

“Can you just… stop talking?” She hisses at Negan, pinching her nose.

Negan gathers all the clues he has, smirks, “That girl Andrea told you to come in here didn’t she? You’re lucky as hell; she’s a real fox, I’ll tell you that much-“

Michonne slaps him upside the head.

“Jesus Christ!”

“That’s my girlfriend you’re talking about.”

Negan rubs his head, “Oh… well that’s fucking awkward..” he looks to Rick and says, “Looks like we’re gonna have to start screwing on the roof… or the basement, it's your call. Everyone knows about the fucking closets nowadays.”

Rick shoots Negan a glare.

Negan hiccups, “Um, I mean, we’re not screwing! _Pfft!_ Course not!”

Michonne blinks.

Rick clears his throat, reaching out to spitefully pinch the arm of the boy at his side.

Negan squeaks out a hiss, shoots Rick a look, but then asks, “So uhh? What did you need help with?”

-

Negan guffaws, splaying his hands exasperatedly down on the cafeteria table they’re sat at.

“You want me to _what_?”

Michonne rolls her eyes, once again, “For the _third_ time, I want you to man the kissing booth.”

“But me? Why me?”

“Yeah,” Rick says, curious, “Why him?”

“We were gonna have Spencer do it because all the underclassmen love him,” Michonne explains, “But he came down with mono before we could convince him.”

“Oh…” Negan nods, “and I come in fucking where?”

“Well, you were the least disgusting boy on the basketball team, and for some reason, a lot of people flock towards that. Plus a lot of people think it’s hot that you beat up Simon,” she reasons, “Rick, I was just looking for you because no one could find Negan and I figured if anyone knew where he was, it would be you. Then I got… um, called to the janitors closet.”

Negan snorts, “Yeah, _called_. Totally heard it on the intercom: Can Michonne please report to the fucking janitors office for her clit appointment? Thank you. Make it a great day or not, the choice is yours!”

Michonne flushes, glares at Negan, “So are you down to do it, or are you just wasting my time?”

Negan turns to Rick for approval, says, quieter, “Are you okay with this?”

Rick furrows his brows, head tilting slightly, “Yeah? Why wouldn’t I be?”

Negan fish mouths, “I- because we’re…” he glances over at Michonne, who’s pretending to look dismissively at a spot on the cafeteria table, “You know…”

Rick just shrugs, “It’s not a big deal,” Negan doesn’t know if he’s talking about the kissing booth or what they’re doing together.

Negan also doesn’t know what he was expecting; what he wanted Rick to say.

Maybe he wanted Rick to be a little jealous, but he can even detect the slightest hint of it in the boy’s blue eyes.

Now Negan shrugs, and he turns back to Michonne, saying, “Yeah. I guess I’ll do it.”

-

A few days later, and there’s Negan, sitting at some corny looking booth decorated with red and pink and tiny heart decals, smack dab at the center of the entrance of the school, getting ready to trade kisses on the cheek for one dollar.

“Let’s do a test run,” Negan says with a smirk when they’ve just finished setting up, no one in sight to be seen.

“I don’t have a dollar.”

“It’s a test run, just fucking pretend you do.”

Rick shrugs, laughs, but abides anyways, walking towards the entrance of school, playing the part of a willing student.

Negan laughs too because it's awkward and its funny, and when Rick tries to hand him a fake dollar Negan snorts and so does Rick.

“Just kiss me already, dammit,” Rick chuckles, slapping Negan's shoulder.

Negan’s still laughing, face scrunching up funnily, “No! You kiss me.”

He has a devious plan in the works.

“That’s not how it works, you’re the one giving the kisses!”

“Yeah, But I’m not gonna be the giver this whole time. Cut me some slack, babe.”

Rick blushes, but sighs, giving in.

“Fine,” he smiles, and Negan tilts his cheeks towards the boy.

When Rick leans in close enough, Negan turns and their lips meet awkwardly because Negan is almost laughing.

Rick pulls away quickly, gasping, “Negan!”

“What?” Negan laughs, and he’s glowing.

Rick looks around, “What if someone was around?”

Negan catches the slight fear in Rick’s eyes and his glow falters.

“Shit…” he mutters, “Sorry, sometimes I just get horny.”

Rick’s smile returns, “Keep it in your pants, big boy.”

People start coming in, in due time, and Rick stays by Negan’s side, collecting and counting the money until they’re getting ready to close up shop and head to first period.

“Always knew I'd make a living selling myself,” Negan remarks, and Rick laughs, smacks him against the shoulder with a thick wad of one dollar bills.

People hadn’t been coming through the doors for a while, so when they hear the sound of an opening and a closing, they look up.

Negan groans internally when he sees its Simon, accompanied by Jesus.

Negan’s never seen this dude Jesus up close, or out of a basketball uniform.

Jesus has some shiny fucking hair, and a thick ass beard. Not only that, but he’s wearing some tight as fuck jeans and a distressed t-shirt that clings to his toned body- a black leather jacket catching the light off his shoulders.

That’s pretty ballsy, Negan thinks.

A leather jacket… Shit, he could never pull that off.

“Sorry, Simey Whimey,” Negan says when Simon leans against the makeshift booth, “I ain’t kissing the kind of cheeks you had in mind.”

Simon huffs a laugh, “Actually I was wondering how much it would cost to watch the two of you make out instead? Now, keep it cheap, boys- just how I like it.”

Rick narrows his eyes.

Negan goes hostile in less than a second.

“Keep your fucking coins and I’ll rearrange your shitty fucking face for free- again! God knows I love me some repeat customers.”

Rick places a hand on Negan’s shoulder, and it’s then that Negan notices he had been leaning into Simon’s space.

He grits his jaw, moves back.

Simon smirks, “Have fun with your cheek kisses, Negan. Lord fucking knows that’s the most action you’ll be getting these days.”

With that, Simon leaves- but Jesus lingers.

Negan sighs, “What the fuck are you looking at, pretty boy? Either buy a fucking smooch or make like your disgusting friend and skee-fucking-saddle.”

Wordlessly, Like Negan hadn’t even spoke at all, Jesus approaches the booth.

Rick watches him carefully as he pulls his wallet out of his skintight jeans.

“I want a kiss,” Jesus says, pulling out a few bills, “but not from you.”

Jesus looks over at Rick, whose eyes are wide with surprise, cheeks flushed.

Negan’s face sets hard.

“How much for lips?” Jesus continues, and Negan is hostile once again.

“You think you’re fucking funny, man? I don’t know what it fucking is with you and Simon, but if you’re trying to get back at me, then get back at _me._ Stop fucking with Rick.”

“I’m not fucking around,” Jesus says sternly, then repeats, “How much?”

Negan reaches out to grab his collar, muttering, “Why I oughta-“ but before he can get his hands around Jesus’ neck, Rick stops him.

“Negan- Negan!” He says, and Negan settles down, meeting Rick’s eyes, “It’s okay. He’s not… he’s not kidding.”

Rick turns back to Jesus and says, “It’s, um, it’s one dollar.”

Negan furrows his brows, confused as he says, voice quiet enough that Jesus can only barely hear, “But Rick.. you’re not…”

You’re not _out_ , he wants to say.

And I don’t want someone like him to touch you, he wants to say.

“I know,” Rick says, “It’s fine.”

Negan scoffs, “But _I’m_ the one manning this fucking booth! Michonne said so!”

No one seems to pay attention to that, and Negan watches, utterly indignant, as Rick accepts Jesus’ dollar and gets on his tiptoes to give him a kiss on the cheek.

Negan crosses his arms over his chest, grinding his teeth so hard together they could be reduced to just gums in minutes time.

When he sees the satisfied smirk on Jesus’ face, Negan knows he’s capable of murder… maybe.

“See you around, Rick,” Jesus says, and he saunters away all cool like.

Rick says goodbye, all blushy and smiley, but Negan yells out, “What about me, bitch? You’re not gonna see me around?” and it masks Rick’s voice.

The boy smiles the rest of the time they count the money, and Negan scowls.

They go off to first period, walking side by side, Negan eyeing Rick the entire time.

He tries to remember if Rick smiled like that the first time they ever kissed that night in the hotel.. well, second time.

He can’t really remember, his memory obscured by insecurity, jealousy.

Before he can help himself, he’s tugging Rick off to the side with him, pushing him up against the wall and smothering the boy’s lips with his own.

Rick moans, taken off guard, but pulls away.

“Negan!” He hisses, the same way he did earlier in the morning, “We’re _at school!_ ”

 _You kissed Jesus in front of God and everyone, Negan thinks,_ but he knows it's not fair to say it, because Negan just shoved his tongue down Rick’s throat and they aren’t sheltered by a kissing booth.

But Negan can’t help but wonder if Rick would ever kiss his cheek while they’re at school, in front of their friends and strangers and everyone.

“Am I a good kisser?” Negan asks instead, sudden and impulsive, maybe a hint desperate.

Rick laughs a confused laugh, “I mean.. yeah, but… I don’t really have anything else to compare  it to.”

Negan frowns.

“You’re better than Shane, I think.”

“You _think_?”

Negan kisses Rick’s cheek, a peck so quick that if you blink you miss it.

“Is that good?”

Rick chuckles, “Yeah. I mean, could use some chapstick.”

Negan smiles, “Fuck you, Rick,” and he reaches into his back pocket, grabbing his handy dandy tube of green apple chapstick.

Rick watches as Negan applies it, smells the fruity scent.

“You wan’ some?” Negan asks, still swiping back and forth before he holds the tube out towards Rick’s mouth.

Rick puckers out his lips as a yes, and Negan puts some on for him, purposefully going out of the lines of his lips just to make Rick squirm.

And when he’s done he goes to kiss Rick’s forehead, then his nose, then his chin, then his eyelids.

Rick laughs- giggles even, but still he keeps on saying, “Negan! Stop! We’re at school!”

-

Whenever Rick has track practice, Negan usually takes that time to hang out with Lucille, just the two of them.

Normally they play some video games, usually Friday the 13th because Lucille has those swimsuit mods for the characters and they think its funny to do upskirt camera angles.

Lucille was the first to do it, saying, “What? I’m just trying to see how realistic it looks.” With a sly smirk, and honestly Negan had been thinking about doing it but didn’t wanna get punched in the face.

Now they do upskirt all the time, and they have to act all innocent when Lucille’s Mom or Dad comes in the room.

Today though, Negan goes to Lucille’s house without invite, and that’s a summary of their friendship.

He doesn’t knock either, just opens up her front door and walks into her room.

The fact that Lucille doesn't seem so shocked to see Negan standing in her room, uninvited and unannounced, says a lot.

“What’s up, fucker?” She says, two feet from the ground as she lies on a bulbous bean bag, scrolling through her phone with placid eyes.

Negan throws himself on her bed, clutches a pillow into himself as he stares up at Lucille’s ceiling, covered in tacky boy band posters and pictures of pretty models straight out of magazines.

“Lucy, we’re good friends, right?” He says, “Like, best fucking friends. You’re my ride or fucking die.”

“Duh,” Lucille says monotonously, still scrolling scrolling scrolling, eyes fixated on her screen, “And?”

“You wouldn’t judge me. For anything.”

“Depends on what it is. I have morals, Negan.”

“There’s some things you don’t know about me, Lucy,” Negan begins, “Things that Rick does, and because he does, I think I fucking love him. So if I tell you, I don’t know what the shit it would do. Maybe it could make us blood brother and sister.”

“What? You got a third nip? A secret mole?”

Negan sighs, chucks Lucille’s own pillow at her.

She grunts out a _Hey!_ and chucks it right back.

“This is a big fucking deal for me, okay?!” Negan half yells, half laughs- nerves riling him silly, “I’m about to tell you about my fucking past. _Pre_ -high school.”

Lucille finally looks away from her phone, “Pre-highschool?” She asks, attention perked.

“Yeah,” Negan nods, swallowing down his growing shame.

He shouldn’t feel shame.

Why should he be ashamed of being who he really was? Of being a fucking kid?

There’s probably a lot of reasons as to why, but that’s too much right now to think about, and no matter how good they are, that shame still builds in the back of Negan's throat.

“Yeah,” Negan repeats, “Back then. I was, uh… a kid.”

“Um, yeah, I’m pretty fucking sure that’s how that works.”

“Yeah, but… I was a _kid_ ,” Negan smiles.

He smiles but it feels like a warning, like garlic for a vampire and a salt ring around his spirit.

“I ran around in my scooter all day up and down the street and I ate Cheeto puffs and popped flinstone vitamins like they were candy and my mom would get so pissed at me. I got bruises and shit… and scrapes, and I outgrew my pants every other week, man.”

Lucille sighs, a heavy breath.

“If you’re trying to make me like, really sad and really not want to graduate and fuck off into the real world- it’s working.”

“It gets fucking sadder, man,” Negan says, “Way fucking sadder. That’s how it is on this whore of an earth.”

“Oh God, wait!” Lucille pleads, “Are you finally gonna tell me how you and Rick met?”

Negan nods, and Lucille lets out a gooey _awwwww!_

“Circa 2005,” Negan narrates, “The day was slight and sunny. Little Negan sees a fat U-haul truck parked beside his fence. Little Negan decides maybe he can totally jump over the fucking truck with his scooter. Little Negan fails epically.”

Lucille taps in like a kindergartener during story time, fists propping up her chin, elbows on her knees, ass firmly planted in the bean bag chair.

There’s a smile on her face like she is so excited to hear, so entertained, so pleased to finally know these things about her friend.

Negan swallows down that same old shame as he begins to narrate what he realizes now just might be the greatest moment of his life. And maybe also the saddest.

He feels like an idiot, telling his life like a tale.

It's not even his whole life. Just a bit.

“Um, uh… Little Negan takes a tumble. Holds on to his knee like Peter Griffin in that one episode of Family Guy, and he’s in so much fucking pain that he almost feels a little high. But little Negan didn’t know what being high felt like then… Big Negan does though so that’s why I’m saying that. Anyways, Then this… boy comes. He’s little and his lips are red and his eyes are blue. So fucking blue. Like really blue. I’m talking cerulean by crayola, Like… so fucking blue-“

Negan sits up on the bed, looks around Lucille’s room, searching for something that’s a shade of blue that would come to par as an example.

“I’ve seen Rick’s eyes, Negan. I see him almost everyday, can you please just sit the fuck down and continue the damn story-“

“No, it’s not the same! They were bluer back then, Like-like… uh, like this!” Negan grabs a cup off of Lucille’s vanity- a half melted blue raspberry slurpee from seven eleven, “They were exactly like this!”

Lucille rolls her eyes, “Fucking liar. They’re not that blue, I see him everyday!”

“I’m telling you I was fucking high! Colors intensify, dammit, don’t you know this? And he was younger, too. Eyes change color when you hit puberty, I’ve heard.”

“Anyways,” Negan continues, keeping his spot near Lucille’s vanity, stirring the slush around in its paper cup, looking down into its artificial shade, “Little Negan is astounded by Little Rick’s eye color, and he’s losing consciousness because his scooter tumble hurt like hell. There-fucking-fore, Little Negan dubs Little Rick- who was a nameless stranger- Blue. Don’t ask me how I fucking came up with it, cause I don’t fucking know, I’m just fucking creative as hell.”

Lucille rolls her eyes again, but she’s smiling.

“Little Rick and Little Negan became friends, huh?”

Negan huffs a small laugh, because Lucille is so enthralled.

“Yeah,” he answers, “They became inseparable. Best friends. They did everything together. They were under each other’s noises so much that sometimes they couldn’t stand each other. But they could never be mad for too long.”

Negan pauses.

“I was- Little Negan was really happy for so long. Really it wasn’t even a year that we were friends before we started school, but those few months- that summer… it felt like a lifetime. Once Little Negan started going to kindergarten, he died and he started some new shit. Kindergarteners are fucking mean. And Little Negan was a chunk ball with adoptive parents. Some mean shit was said. Little Negan continued to die a little more everyday, but Little Rick always made him forget he was dying or that people were even killing him anyways.”

“But one day, Little Negan wakes up- and he’s not so little anymore, he’s like thirteen- but he wakes up, and… Rick is gone. He just left, him and his mom just up and left. Little Negan felt alone. Felt like he couldn’t… fight anymore. Like there was no point in fighting. Little Negan got depressed, had no friends, his grades were going down, he was getting fatter. Little Negan eventually joined the basketball team at school because of his mom’s suggestions. Little Negan made some pseudo friends. Little Negan lost weight. Then he lost a lot of weight. Then he met Lucille. Then things weren’t so bad. They started getting better. Negan started forgetting- it started getting easier to not remember the past, or remember Rick. Because Little Negan thought he’d never see Little Rick ever again for the rest of his life. And that sucked but he was getting used to that thought.”

“Um… but then uh, um… Little Negan sees Rick in the hallway one day. And he’s taller and he’s older and his hair looks different, but he’s all the same. He’s my.. he’s my blue. He’s Rick. And I don’t know what to do. I have no idea what to fucking do and he’s looking at me and his eyes are bright like he wants to run up to me and say Hi but he’s scared, and all I do is spare him a glance because I can’t do it. I can’t say Hi to him, because it's not the same. Nothing would ever be the same if I did. Either I’d lose everything I worked so hard for while Rick was gone, or I’d lose Rick. I couldn’t be Basketball star Negan and have Rick be my friend, too. So I pretend like I don’t see him, I avoid him completely because I couldn't handle being bullied again. I forget about him. I put away everything I’ve ever felt, everything I’ve ever experienced with Rick, and I shove it in the dark, and I go on.”

Negan’s crying by now, he knows he is. He’s sitting on the floor, leaning against Lucille’s vanity chair, and he’s crying.

He feels tears streaming and his nose getting all stuffy.

He feels Lucille come near him and put her hand on his hand, comforting him.

Negan can’t bring himself to tell her that this all means so much more now, him and Rick.

Because when he leaves in a half hour to go pick Rick up from track practice, they’re probably gonna have sex, and with that sex Negan is gonna belong that much more to Rick.

He’s gonna feel that much more for Rick, and that bad feeling brewing in his gut will haunt him that much harder.

If he tells Lucille, she’ll talk him out of it, she’ll make him stop doing what they’re doing.

Negan just wants to get as close to Rick as he can, as close as no one has ever gotten before.

He gets up, look at himself in the harsh lights of Lucille’s vanity mirror, and cringes.

His eyes are puffy and his face is red. His hair is a mess but it’s always like that.

Lucille hands him a dirty t- shirt to blow his nose in, and sure as hell he blow his nose in it and it sounds fucking explosive.

Lucille grimaces, and Negan tosses the t-shirt aside, still looking back at his hideous reflection, trying to get comfortable with it.

He and Lucille go off into her kitchen, sit on top of her counter and eat cheese stick after cheese stick until there’s none left.

Then he’s saying goodbye and he’s got gas from all the dairy, but he feels better then he did before.

He starts his truck, and heads back towards the high school.

He parks near the football field, and waits for Rick to emerge from the field house, damp from a shower and wearing the clothes Negan has seen him in all day, but somehow always manage to look different after hours.

Rick walks out and as he gets closer and closer to Negan's truck, he grins- eyes bright like he wants to say hi.

So when he gets into the truck, Negan beats Rick to it, smiling back and saying, “Hi, Blue.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank u all for reading!!! i hope u all enjoyed and as always, feedback and constructive criticism are more than welcome <3333


	14. Cream

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fluffy songmood for this chapter is piel canela by eydie gorme  
> angsty songmood for this chapter is me and your mama by childish gambino  
> both songs r on the playlist!!!

Negan has an idea, and it comes to him while he's sweeping his kitchen floor on a Sunday morning. 

Rick is washing dishes, focusing on soap and suds and dishes.

Negan’s mom is in the living room dusting furniture and picture frames, and her cleaning music is blaring throughout the house and though it’s loud, it’s not as loud or as uninhibited as her singing.

A song plays and Negan has heard it many many  _ many _ times on lots of Sunday’s like this where they spend the early morning and afternoon cleaning.

But after all this time, Negan barely knows what it's saying. 

He understands Spanish when someone is speaking it, but for some reason it becomes a lot blurrier when they’re singing it.

But the melody is light and jovial and the voice of the woman singing is so beautiful and timeless.

Negan finds himself idle, palms resting on the very top of the handle of the broom, head resting on his palms, watching Rick wash and dry dishes.

Suddenly he has to know what this song is saying, so he can connect it to the feeling it induces as he looks at the boy.

Later on in the night, when Rick is busy showering and getting ready for bed, Negan goes to find his mother, who is sitting on the porch, watching over the night and the stars.

He settles beside her chair, sitting on the wooden floor.

“Mom,” he begins, disturbing the peace when he deems it appropriate, “What’s that song about?”

“Which one?” She asks, unbothered.

“The one you always play on Sundays: what’s it about? What’s it saying?”

Negan’s mom lets out a warm chuckle, head turning from her son to the front of her vision.

“What’s so funny?” Negan asks, smiling himself.

She smiles some more, and the warmth stays while she speaks of the past. 

“You’ve asked me this question before,” she says, reminiscing, “But you were just a baby. _ Un chiquito bebito. _ You’re so big now.”

Negan offers a comforting smile, then asks, “Well, what did you tell me then?”

Something glistens in her eyes. Like tears, but not sad or happy. “I told you… it's a song about a person with skin the color of cinnamon and eyes darker than night. And do you know what you told me?”

Negan shakes his head.

She smiles so wide her teeth show and her eyes glitter.

Maybe there’s a little tears as she says, “You said,  _ mama, it's about you!” _

Negan smiles, craning his neck and looking up at his mother. 

“I didn’t have the heart to tell you it wasn’t,” she confesses, “Or the patience to spell out the song to you word for word.”

“How about now?” Negan asks, “maybe you can do it now.”

-

_ Let the infinity be without stars _

_ Or the sea lose its immensity _

_ But may the color of your eyes never die _

_ And let the youth in your skin last forever _

_ If rainbows lost their beauty _

_ And if flowers lost their scent and their color _

_ I would not be as sad as if I were to have lost your love. _

_ I care for you _

_ Only you _

_ I care for you _

_ And nobody else but you _

Negan puts his pen down, looks down at his masterpiece of a love letter, and thanks the probably dead people for having written the best love song he’s probably ever heard in his life.

-

Part of the plan requires money.

A huge part of it, actually, and with all the money Negan spends on food for Rick and food for Lucille and food for himself, his wallet has been looking pretty slim. 

So he comes up with an easy solution: mowing lawns. 

Yeah, he hasn’t mowed a lawn in a long ass time, but he figures with his Dad’s John Deere, it really can’t be that hard.

Plus Lucille has a bunch of neighbors that are senior citizens, and they all fucking love Negan  _ and  _ they all just so happen to need their lawns mowed.

It’s easy, it’s simple, and like that Negan knows what he’s doing for the weekend.

He wakes up at 7:30 in the morning, trying his best not to wake Rick or his parents. 

The only thing is Rick is a completely dainty as fuck sleeper and the second Negan rolls too far to the side, Rick is awake.

“Where you goin?” Rick asks, voice muddled and groggy.

But by the time he’s gathered enough coherence to ask, Negan is already changing his clothes.

“Don’t worry about it,” Negan supplies, as he hops on one foot, slipping on an old pair of shoes.

Rick’s sleepy head doesn’t argue with that, and he lets out a pliant, “Okay,” before dropping his curls back onto his pillow.

Then Negan’s outside, staring at a fat John Deere and wondering how the fuck he’s gonna get that shit up onto the bed of his truck.

There’s the ramps; the most practical solution, but his Dad made those ramps and god bless that old man's soul but they look shady as hell, and Negan doesn’t trust them to hold up the wrath of a busty John Deere.

Negan, bleary minded from lack of sleep and just plain desperate, figures well, he can always lift it up there.

Cursing ensues, as well as the harsh realization that Negan can’t lift for shit. 

His form is shitty, his legs are puny, and this green mammoth is fucking heavy.

He’s got sweat on his brow, hands on his hips, and a pensive hazel eyed glare on his lawn mower when Rick emerges from the front door, wearing his pajamas and looking soft and ruffled like his curly hair, squinting because he’s blinded by the morning light.

“I told you to go back to sleep,” Negan says, breathing heavily.

“I could hear you cursing all the way from your room,” Rick shrugs, adding, “Aren’t you supposed to get that Rampy thing and then drive it up in there?”

“I’m not fucking doing that scary ass shit. With my shitty luck, I’d probably crash it.”

“So you’re just gonna what? Try to lift it up there?”

“Well yeah that’s what I was trying to fuckin’ do! It can’t be that impossible, right?”

Rick shoots him a grim look.

“Maybe I should call Lucille... You think she’d be awake right now?”

“It’s eight in the morning,” Rick points out, and that alone is a no.

Negan sighs, finally hopping on the big mean green machine, “Fuck it, I’m driving this shit all the way over there. These people are paying me to give their lawn a haircut, so this is just what I gotta do.”

“Give their lawn a haircut? Do you mean mow their lawn?”

Negan disregards that, “Are you coming or not?Two queers on the Deere, just having fun... Like that Lionel Richie song- you know, the one that goes: I’m easy on Sunday mornings.”

Rick laughs because that not how it goes.

“I don’t know,” Rick says, drawing out his words and feigning wary though he’s walking up to Negan, “seeing you sitting on that John Deere is kinda making me horny.”

Negan snorts out a flattered laugh, “Believe me, just sitting in this motherfucker is getting my fuckin’ dick wet,” he looks up at Rick, hopes the boy thinks the flush on his cheeks is just from the sun- though the sun isn’t hardly strong at this time of day. 

Rick’s smiling back at Negan, and Negan says, “Now kiss me, sexy.”

Rick hops in Negan’s lap, plants a quick kiss on his lips. 

The moment is so exhilarating and bubbly and full of laughter that Negan thinks they’ll peel out of his driveway in no time and ride off merrily into the sunset.

But the John Deere only goes like ten miles an hour and the moment is dampened.

“You can’t make this thing go any faster?” Rick asks over the sharp sound of the neighborhood chihuahua, who’s trying to chase their wheels, yapping on and on and on.

“Sorry this shit only has like one gram of horsepower, Ricky. It's a John Deere, not a fuckin Ferrari.”

It takes like twenty minutes for them to get to Lucille’s neighborhood, and Negan’s consultants eye Rick and his pajamas with wary disposition as he and Negan stand on their doorstep.

“Oh, don’t worry about him,” Negan says to soothe their worries, “He’s my… grass evaluator…”

He looks over to Rick for backup, and Rick says, “Uh.. yeah!” Looking over at the untamed lawn, “You guys have got some… great blades on you.”

Then Negan’s doing his thing, mowing grass, and Rick is back sitting across his lap because he has nothing better to do but entertain Negan and pretend to evaluate grass.

“So what are you mowing lawns for anyways?” Rick asks, arm around Negan's shoulders, watching cut up grass spray out of the chute, breathing in the earthy scent.

“Oh, I was just in the mood. Needed some pocket change,” Negan says quickly, before changing the subject, “By the way, you’re a great ass- I mean grass- evaluator.”

Rick chuckles, bumps his head playfully against Negan’s, “Yeah, yeah, yeah. Real smooth.”

-

It's the day before Valentine’s Day and Rick is so conveniently out of town for a track meet.

That means it's him and Lucille the whole day, dipping in and out of class to bring Negan's plan to fruition.

They spend most of their time in the arts building that day, because Negan has spent the past few days working on a flower pot for Rick and now he just needs to glaze it and fire it and then go to the floral design class and beg the teacher to let him steal a few roses and a few carnations and maybe some potting soil, too- with Lucille’s charming help. 

Then after school they’re met with the Valentine's Day aisle at Walmart, and Negan is coming face to face with the many options at hand. 

Would Rick want the Pink bear that says sweetheart or the red one that says be mine? Fuck it, Negan’s gonna get the pink one cause it’s fucking cute.

But then there’s still a box of chocolates and a giant heart shaped balloon that Negan would kill to see Rick hold.

Fuck, he’s just gonna Rick all three. That’s like a classic thing, right? 

“Ooh Negan!!! Get him this one! He’s gonna love this one!” Lucille says, making a jump for a giant teddy bear on the top shelf.

“It has to fit in his locker, Lucy,” Negan reminds the girl, “That  _ is _ pretty fuckin badass though.”

Lucille turns to him, clutching the bear with utter mirth in her eyes, “Buy it for me?”

Negan eyes her, then the bear, then her, then the bear again.

“Fine,” he sighs, “put that bitch in the cart,”

Lucille smiles, and is about to oblige when she  has second thoughts, “Wait no, nevermind,” she says, “if you’re gonna buy me something for Valentine’s Day, buy me a body pillow with big tits.”

Negan rolls his eyes, “and where the fuck am I gonna get that in less than a day?”

“Like I fucking know,” Lucille shrugs, “But hey, I can wait 5 to 10 business days.”

They pay for their things, and drive back to the school, sneak in through the field houses, and stuff Rick’s locker with the bear and the box of chocolates and Negan's anonymous note- the flowers and their pot left for a later time to retain freshness.

Then they go back to Lucille’s house.

“So what’s the plan?” Lucille says as she plops down on her bed, looking over at Negan.

Negan sighs with frustration, misunderstanding, “I already told you like three times, you’re gonna go to the floral class in the morning and grab my flower pot from the fridge, break into Rick’s locker, and stuff it in there like ten minutes before the bell!”

“I know that, dumbass! I mean what’s the  _ plan _ plan? What do you expect from this whole thing?” She asks, reiterating, “You expect him to just know that all that was you?”

“Well yeah,” Negan says, “I’m the only one that knows his locker combo. And who else would go all balls to the wall for him but me?”

Lucille makes a face.

“Okay,” she draws out, wary, but trying to give him the benefit of a doubt, “But then what?”

“I don’t know… in my head he’s gonna see all that shit in his locker and he’s gonna know it’s me and he’s gonna be like Was this you? and I’m gonna be like Yeah…. I mean, the note is pretty telling. I figure he’s not that fucking dense and he’ll catch my drift. And Then,” Negan says, to answer her question, finally, “we find out if he feels the same.”

-

It’s Valentine’s Day and Negan is jittery and nervous.

He gets dressed and eats breakfast in ten minutes time, practically tears Rick from bed and forces him to get up and do the same.

And on their way to school he taps his fingers against the steering wheel as he drives, and drums his palms against the horn when they’re at stop signs, and Rick side eyes him with amuse, wondering what’s gotten into him.

“We should go get your books,” Negan suggests, when they’ve barely walked through the entrance of the school, and he’s eyeing the digital clock mounted on the wall of the cafeteria, “Like right now.”

“Why?” Rick asks, “We never use our books anyways. I’d just be lugging them around for no reason-”

“I have a feeling you’re gonna need ‘em today, now c'mon! Fucking move it!”

Negan practically walks on Rick’s heels when they’re on the way to his locker, hands on Rick’s back, prompting him to move faster.

They get there and Rick messes up his combination like three times, his excuse being “I can’t do it right when you’re watching me!”

But finally he gets it unlocked, and Negan watches with a stuttering heart as Rick’s face morphs from the small teasing smile he’d been giving Negan to this look of utter surprise as a heart shaped balloon floats solemnly into his face, bonking him on the nose.

Then Rick smiles again, this time soft and rosy, and he grabs a hold of the flower pot and pulls out the notecard stuck slightly into the potting soil. 

Negan’s own smile follows suit when he sees Rick run a thumb against the letters of his hand painted name, simultaneously reading the note and flushing bright with flattery.

“I wonder who that’s from,” Negan says, pointedly, hoping to prompt the question he’s been hoping for.

_ Was this you? Did you do all this? _

But all Rick says is, “Yeah… me too,” with a cloudy tone that says he’s conjuring up an idea, and a smile that’s far away lying lazy on his lips.

_ You’re cute, Rick. Like Valentine’s day card cute. Prom queen cute. Love letter cute… _

Then he’s shutting his locker, holding the note still in his hands.

“Can you tell Mrs. Monroe I’m gonna be late?” Rick asks Negan, “I need to go find someone.”

“Oh-okay,” Negan says, and Rick’s already taken off before he can finish.

Then Negan’s left there, talking to the air, face fallen in a confused frown because that definitely was not supposed to happen.

-

Rick dashes out to the courtyard just as the first period bell rings.

He’s seen Jesus sitting there maybe once or twice, occupying the space just behind the security camera above the lunch tables, smoking cigarettes in the morning and the afternoon.

Sure enough, Rick finds him there, sitting in a cloud of smoke, clothed in leather and denim.

Rick sees him and his conviction withers a bit, legs going to jelly and making him slow down and second guess himself. 

Why would Jesus do all this for  _ him _ ? Why would he make Rick a flower pot, buy him a bear and a balloon and a box of chocolates?

It all sounds so far fetched, but who else could it be?

Before Rick can shrink and run back into the school, Jesus turns, catching Rick’s nervous eyes.

He holds his gaze, breathing out smoke through his nose, brow quirked and furrowed in curiosity as he looks Rick up and down.

Rick gulps, walks up to him.

“Hi, Rick,” Jesus says, and he is so placid and cool that Rick cannot read him. He catches sight of the flower pot in Rick’s hand, peeking out cream colored carnations and red and pink roses, and says, “Nice flower pot,” with a teasing smirk.

“Did you make me this?” Rick asks, before he can over think it, “Did you- did you put all that stuff in my locker? The bear and the chocolates and the balloon and the note?” Rick holds up the notecard, and Jesus snags it, maintaining that poker face all the while.

Rick waits for an answer in anticipation, wanting it all to be from him. God, if it isn’t that’ll be so embarrassing.

Jesus skims his eyes against the card, reads a few corny words.

He knows that handwriting. He’s seen it on basketball rosters and out of town permission slips and athletic excuses.

He knows that’s Negan’s handwriting.

Still, with one final puff of his cigarette before he snuffs it beneath his boot, he looks up at Rick- Rick with those hopefully desperate blue eyes- and says, quirking a smirk, “Course it was me. Who else do you think it could’ve been?”

-

Rick comes back to first period seven minutes late with a giant grin on his face and his flower pot still perched happily in his hands, cherished.

He sits down beside Negan, and immediately turns to him, saying, “It was Jesus! Jesus made it for me,” and he’s positively beaming.

Negan looks down at the flower pot, voice wilted and forced as he looks down at the R and the I and the C and the K that he handpainted, all beside the fat red heart that he also handpainted.

“Oh? He did?”

“Yeah,” Rick grins, almost laughing he’s so giddy with joy, “We’re gonna go to Creme Cup after school. Like a date- a  _ real _ date! I’ve never been on a real date!”

Negan looks up at Rick then, as if to ask if he’s truly being serious when he says that.

What were all those times  _ they _ went to Creme Cup together? All the food he bought for Rick? All the milkshakes and banana splits they shared? 

For fuck sake, he threw a queer in Negan's face one time. 

Does that not count for anything? 

“What?” Rick says, catching the oddness in Negan’s gaze.

“Nothing,” Negan says, shaking his head, looking down at the flower pot once again, “Just… it’s just-“

“What, Negan?” Rick urges, “Just say it.”

Negan sighs, his furrowed brows matching his troubled interior, “Just be safe, okay? Be careful around him, okay? I’ve heard some fucking things about that guy.”

Rick rolls his eyes at that, not liking the damper Negan is putting on him, “I can take care of myself, Negan,” he murmurs.

Negan reaches out, touches the velvet petals of a richly colored rose, “I know you can, Blue.”

-

Negan leaves home by himself at the end of the day, and it feels a lot lonelier than he cares to admit. Especially on Valentine’s days.

Vaguely he considers finding a girl to spend the rest of the afternoon and evening with, someone pretty and nice to keep him warm and to keep warm in return.

But that feels wrong, almost. It feels like he’s betraying Rick- even if the boy  _ is _ out on a date with another guy right now.

So Negan figures he’ll go home and spend some times with his parents until Rick gets back, but the only thing is that when he gets home, his parents are still gone at work.

There is, however, a pizza on the table, with a sticky note pressed onto the box that says ‘for you and Rick ;)’- very much his mom’s doing.

When Negan opens up the box and sees it’s a heart shaped pizza, he feels even more so like a loser than he did before.

But he tells himself what does it matter? It's just Rick, right? Rick is just a boy. There’s so many boys out there. So many girls, too. So many people that would love to be with him.

He’s not a loser. He’s just choosing to be alone right now. Yeah, maybe because that’s his only choice, but whatever. 

Negan tries not to think about that, and instead grabs the pizza box and heads onto the porch, deciding he needs some fresh air.

He takes a seat by the the front door, looking out at the dim afternoon with an oh well kind of sigh as he opens the box and takes out a slice.

Not thirty seconds after he starts chewing, he hears the jingle of bells and the crooked trot of a familiar creature, followed by the erratic snort of breath.

Sure enough, a pug comes dashing up his porch steps, approaching him with a waggly tongue.

But it's not just any pug: it’s the neighbors pug named Bojangles.

“Hey Bojey,” Negan greets, watching the dog fidget at his feet, “How ya doin, bud?”

Bojangles snorts in reply, paws at Negan’s shoe.

“Ya wanna slice?” Negan teases, holding one out just inches above the dogs height.

Bojangles gets on her hind legs, barking indignantly.

Negan takes the slice out of reach, bringing it to his own mouth, making Bojangles whimper.

“Sike!” He says, mouth full, chewing loudly as he laughs spitefully. 

He swallows down his bite, and then realizes he’s taking his frustrations out on a harmless pug. 

Then he just feels pathetic, and he gives Bojangles a slice as an apology, listening to the dogs disgusting snorts as she pigs out.

“Hey, Bojey,” Negan calls, and the dog doesn’t listen, “You wanna be my valentine?”

Bojangles growls then, still horking down her slice.

“Jesus, fine,” Negan murmurs, “... Bitch.”

Once she’s finished, Bojangles leaves, strutting down the steps and meeting up with the neighborhood chihuahua just a block away.

It looks like Negan's the only one alone today, huh? Even that fat fucking pug has that annoying as fuck chihuahua.

Negan’s basting in his thoughts when he gets a text from Lucille.

It reads, ‘ _ So how did it go?? _ ’

_ ‘Fukn terrible _ ,’ Negan replies, ‘ _ He thinks Jesus did all that 4 him’ _

_ ‘O fuk,’  _ Lucille replies, and that about sums up how Negan feels right now.

_ ‘Man this sux major ass. Me n rick were supposed to b together rn. He looked somfuckig good today too. Did u see the red sweater he was fukn wearing?? Jesus Christ I just wanted to lick his whole fukn body.  _

_ My mom bought us a pizza too :( … but now its just all mine _

_ And bojey’s’ _

Negan triple texts her out of misery, spilling out his sorrows through text.

_ Negan u can just let Jesus take credit for this,  _ The girl replies, _ ‘U went all out for him for fuks sake. U mowed lawns for him … HAND CRAFTED A FLOWER POT 4 HIM’ _

Negan sighs, holding his phone limp in his hands before he begins typing.

_ ‘He’s fukn happy as fuk bc he thinks its jesus tho :/ Bet if I told him it was me he’d just be grossed out and feel weird af so I guess this is for the best :/‘ _

It takes a while, but eventually Lucille responds, saying, ‘ _ Dam two :/ in one message… that’s fukd’ _

Negan's just about to leave it at that when he gets another message.

_ ‘Get ready. I’m gnna pik u up,’  _ Lucille says.

_ ‘Ok _ ,’ is all Negan sends back.

-

Lucille’s the one who picked Negan up but somehow (Lucille got a cramp in her foot) Negan's the one who ends up driving.

“So anyways,” Lucille says, shoving fries in her mouth straight from the McDonald’s bag because she insisted they needed ice cream and french fries, and Creme Cup was way out of the question, “I had a dream I was pissing and when I went to wipe, something bit my damn hand. So I look further and there's a fucking snake coming out of my snatch! I was  _ literally _ birthing a fucking serpent. Needless to say, I woke up fucking screaming.”

_ “ _ Stop eating the fries!!” Negan complains when they’re leaving McDonald’s, trying not to laugh at Lucille’s anecdote so she can see how serious he is.

“Haven’t you heard?” Lucille says, feigning a gossipy tone, smug mouth full of salty potatoes, “One does not simply drive home from McDonald’s without eating any fries. Ancient proverb…”

Negan gives her a look that she does not accept, and then shakes his head before his facade falls and he ends up laughing.

“Okay That was a good one,” he chuckles, “Now shut your fuckin trap and feed me, dammit.”

Lucille grabs a handful of fries and shoves them at his face, only a couple actually making it in his mouth.

Then it's them and the road, cruising, listening to music.

Lucille sings really loud and makes Negan put the windows down so she can feel the wind in her hair.

She shows him new songs, she tells him what they mean, and the whole time she’s talking or singing, Negan’s mind is off of Rick.

But as soon as they’re off the highway and back in the streets of their small town, all chattered out and whatnot, Negan is reminded of the day, and of Rick and of Jesus, and his contentedness dissolves quickly away.

“If we’re not married by the time we’re forty, let’s just fucking get hitched, you and me,” Negan proposes, adding, “I know you don’t like dick, but we obviously aren’t gonna fuck, ykno.. it would just be for the benefits. And so I won’t be fucking lonely for the rest of my life.”

Lucille shrugs, “I don’t see why not,” she says, but adds, “We  _ will _ find somebody, though. Both of us.”

Negan swallows, tries to humor her, but then says,  “What if I’ve already found my someone?”

“You can never be too sure,” Lucille concedes.

Still Negan urges on.

“What if I found him, though?” Negan continues, “What if I found him and he just doesn’t fucking want me?”

Lucille sighs deeply, “Well…  I don’t know.”

Negan leaves them in silence, finds himself driving towards Creme Cup. 

He knows he shouldn’t, knows it’ll just make shit worse for him, but he goes anyway.

He just has to  _ see _ , he tells himself, and that’s it. Maybe that’ll help him get over it.

But no, he drives by and he sees Rick and Jesus through the glass, sharing a milkshake, just like Negan would do with the boy if Rick answered yes to the ever awaited question of  _ Are you hungry? _ every Tuesday and Thursday when Negan picked him up after track practice.

Rick is smiling, just like he had been all day as he held around that flower pot.

Negan wonders if Rick would’ve been smiling just as wide if he’d known it was Negan who made it for him and not Jesus.

He watches as Rick reaches out a hand to stroke a lock of Jesus’ hair, twirling it around in his fingers as Jesus basks in the attention with a smug look on his face.

Negan wants to punch that fucking face. Negan wants to feel Rick’s fingers in  _ his _ hair.

“How long do you think it would take me to grow out my hair to like, my shoulders?” Negan asks Lucille, trying to make his tone casual.

“Negan,” Lucille says, her tone sorry, “You’re just making things worse for yourself.”

Negan says nothing because he knows she’s right, and just drives off before he’s seen eavesdropping.

He drives back to his house, parks in his driveway and just sits there for a second, feeling Lucille’s eyes on him as she waits for his next move.

Negan just sits there and wonders what stupid flavor that stupid milkshake was. He and Rick always get chocolate banana because Rick likes banana and Negan likes chocolate.

He wonders if they shared a straw or used two separate ones. He and Rick always share one.

He wonders how his mood can shift so fast from sad to happy to sad again just because of the thought of one single thing. Or person, really.

“Negan, you have to tell him it was you,” Lucille says, so gentle it almost feels mocking to Negan's ears.

Negan shakes his head, feels a gripping pain in his chest that makes him grit his jaw.

“It doesn’t fucking matter anymore,” Negan shrugs, detached from his own words even if he doesn’t know it, “It’s whatever. I don’t care.”

“Don’t say that,” Lucille pleads, “You  _ do _ care.”

Negan shakes his head, “I don’t,” he says, but he does.

He leaves Lucille’s car and goes back into his house, enticed by the comforting thought of sleep.

Sleep sounds dreamy right now, he thinks, he’d give anything to have a break right now, to escape in dreams.

The house is still empty so he strips to his boxers, walking into his room and chucking his clothes into his laundry bin and putting on some music, letting it go as loud as it can go- which really isn’t that loud, but since the house is still and idle, it feels almost deafening.

Especially as the music screams and screams, yelling like it’s pained.  

Negan sits on the edge of his bed and just listens, staring at himself in the mirror that lies in front of  him.

He’s still staring when the door opens, and he doesn’t want to look away from his reflection to see who it is in his room, because he knows it’s Rick.

But then Rick comes up to him, obscuring Negan’s vision of himself, and he has no choice but to pay attention although Rick is the last person he wants to see.

However, somehow, as soon as Negan looks up at the boy and his blushy Valentine’s Day glow, Rick becomes the only thing Negan wants to see.

He’s so gorgeous and sweet. He doesn’t even know how much he’s hurting Negan.

“Your mom got us a heart shaped pizza!” Rick yells, trying to compete with the music.

“Yeah,” Negan says, and Rick has to read his lips to understand.

Rick looks at his lips, and Negan looks at Rick’s lips.

Negan tries to see if maybe he’s been kissed. He can’t tell.

He reaches up, puts a hand on the nape of Rick’s neck and pulls him down to his knees, urging their lips to meet.

Negan kisses him like his lips and his tongue and his spit are the words that say please just feel it, please just know how much you mean to me, please just feel it, too.

He wants Rick to know it completely, and maybe he will if he kisses him hard enough.

_ Oh, you really got a hold on me,  _ the song croons,  _ So this isn’t just puppy love.  _

Negan feels Rick’s moans vibrate against his lips, feels Rick’s hands move to grip and rub at his thighs, rubbing up higher and higher until they’re near his groin, pulling at the waistband of his boxers.

Negan opens his legs wider, letting Rick in.

Negan lifts his hips up off the bed, letting Rick pull his boxers down to his knees, letting Rick take his dick in his hands.

He knows maybe they shouldn’t do this anymore. Negan should’ve stopped this the second his feelings for Rick began turning into something more, but he’s just gonna let himself have this.

It's just sex, it’s just sex, he tells himself.

That’s all it is. 

It's just a blowjob, he tells himself as Rick takes him in his mouth, as his head falls back in ecstasy, as he moves Rick’s hair out of the way just so he can see the boy’s face, just so he can see the way his lips stretch around his cock, just so he can touch his hair and just so he can scratch his fingers softly against Rick’s scalp.

It's nothing more than that, because if it’s nothing more than that, then it can’t hurt him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> negans letter is essentially the lyrics to piel canela but I changed it up a lil bc obviously rick doesnt hav cinnamon skin or black eyes.   
> just fyi lmao  
> thank u all for reading!! i hope you enjoyed and as always, feedback and constructive criticism are more than welcome :)


	15. Gray

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song mood is Self control by Frank Ocean, one of the songs that made me want to write Ivy in the first place... I love that shit.

So Rick likes Jesus- Negan knows that. 

But still, if Rick wants to keep having sex with him, he’ll take it. 

Sure it means two different things for the both of them, but Negan can’t help but think that maybe if he fucks Rick more or if he fucks Rick better, then maybe the boy will finally see the light and realize he might actually have feelings for Negan and maybe- just maybe- he’ll drop Jesus and finally go for him.

And hey, it can’t hurt to try. Not when it means orgasms and seeing Rick naked, and not when it means he gets to do these things with Rick before anyone else does.

He knows he promised to teach Rick things. It's just that when he thinks of Rick doing these things with someone else, especially Jesus, he kind of breaks a little bit.

So Negan’s kind of stopped the whole  _ here, do this and that and it feels better when you do this and be careful with your teeth when you do that or tuck in your fingers when you’re doing this, _ and instead he just goes with the flow.

In the heat of the moment, Rick hardly notices. If he does notice he doesn’t say anything. 

Now most of the time between them, it goes, “Sit on my face.”

“What? Won’t that hurt? Will you even be able to breathe?”

“Don’t you worry now, Blue… I’m a qualified deep ass diver. I can spend a whole six minutes under ass without a sniffle of air.”

A rolls of the eyes, a slack smile, and a pair of thighs going to straddle Negan’s face, smothering his mouth.

Moans and groans and hips grinding deep into Negan's jaw, using the boy’s face to get off and riding his pointed tongue into oblivion.

_ Or _ it can go,

“You want fingers, baby?”

The blooming of a feverish flush, “I’ve never had fingers… in there.”

A soothing hand through the hair, a reassuring kiss, “Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle. I’ll make it feel real fucking good.”

And it does always feel so fucking good. 

And Negan  _ is _ always so gentle, so doting and patient. He doesn’t think he could be anything but that when it comes to Rick. 

He can’t look at Rick’s bare inner thighs, dusted in soft hair and winter pale, and not want to litter them with kisses.

Can’t look at the soft skin of his belly, at the trail of hair that never misleads, and not want to cover it in marks and bites.

He can’t see Rick shudder with odd pain at a new stretch of a finger or a bite too sharp and not want to comfort him, not want to take it down a notch, not want to move a whole lot slower.

Negan finds he likes it a whole lot slower now. With all the other people he’s been with it’s been impersonal and as quick as possible. No cuddling, no post orgasm make out sessions, no pillow talk, no hazey naps.

Rick thinks it's just him that this is all new to, but Negan’s learning some new things, too.

-

Negan’s getting better at skating. 

Dwight told him in the beginning that since he’s tall it would be harder for him to find his balance than it is for most people, and boy was that fucking true.

There were so many falls, so many discouraging tumbles and awkward gangly flailing limbs, but now Negan doesn’t even need Dwight’s hands hovering over his waist so he can go half a mile an hour on his skateboard.

And now he goes faster, too, and he doesn’t have to think too much about where his feet are on the board. Now it's almost like they just know where to go. 

Negan gets cocky sometimes because he can finally cruise on his board like the free bird he’s always wanted to be, but then he sees Dwight go all X-games mode and he comes back down to earth.

Still, it is nice to not be the best at something, as weird as that sounds. Sure, Negan is really only good at basketball and fucking, but even now that he’s off the team his dying reputation is still too exhausting to maintain.

It feels good to suck at something and not care, to get better slowly and at his own pace and not kick himself in the head over it.

“Saw your boy at Creme Cup with some long haired dude,” Dwight says, sitting with his legs hanging off the cliff of the bowl, tightening the trucks of his board with a little screwdriver, “They were sharing a milkshake… strawberry, to be exact. Should I be concerned?”

Suddenly Negan is out of his peaceful reverie, his tires skidding to a stop in a kinda sorta manual- one of the beginners tricks Dwight taught him.

“He’s not my boy!” Negan repeats, maybe for the hundredth time between the two of them. 

Everytime Dwight brings up Rick, Rick is always  _ your boy.  _

Maybe Negan wouldn’t mind so much if Rick was actually his boy, but he’s not, and everytime Dwight calls him that, Negan is reminded.

Dwight looks him in the eyes, though strings of his blond hair intervene. Either way Negan can still tell his gaze is earnest and breezy- never ever too serious.

“But you want him to be, don’t you?” He asks.

Negan looks away and gets one foot going, revving himself off and away, “Doesn’t matter what  _ I  _ want him to be,” he says over the smooth sound of his wheels rolling beneath him, “He’s gonna be whatever he fucking wants.”

Dwight shrugs, moves on, “I don’t know what Rick sees in that guy, honestly. I mean, he’s got some bitchin’ hair and he dresses cool and shit, but all that bullshit can really only get you so far. That dude’s a bitch, man. He cussed me out once ‘cause the chocolate soft serve machine wasn’t working… like damn, what the fuck do you want me to do about that? Hand churn you some fuckin’ cream and pull some fucking Parisian chocolate and some rock salt out of my ass?”

Negan furrows his brows, runs a hand through his hair, looks down at his own attire, “Do I have nice hair?”

“Yeah man, I dig the color. Very… dark. Could use some dry shampoo, though. You’re looking a little greasy- and volumes always good.”

“Well I  _ am _ sweating,” Negan defends,tugging at his own overgrown hair, but then he makes a face, “What about my clothes? Are they lame?”

Dwight looks Negan up and down, tilting his head studiously, “Hmm… not lame, but… kinda lazy. Kinda athletic. Maybe a little.. confused?”

“Are you just saying athletic cause I wear sweats all the fucking time?”

“Yeah, dude, honestly. But hey, don’t sweat it,” Dwight winks obviously, “You make them look rad. And you’re not wearing them today, so it's not like _ all _ the time. Anyways, what was I getting to? Oh, maybe he does want to be your boy,” Dwight suggests with an easy shrug, “You never know.”

Negan skids to another stop, sighing so heavily it brings his chest up, and then yelling out, “He’s  _ not _ my boy!” So the thick headed blond just a few feet away can hear.

“Gosh, I didn’t say he was,” Dwight says, voice small and under his breath, “I said maybe he wanted to be.”

“ _ He’s not my boy!” _ Negan repeats.

~

This is the greatest feeling in the world.

They’ve never felt this way. 

Negan’s felt  _ this _ , this sensation, this satisfaction, but not like this. 

He doesn’t know what to call it.

There’s no other word for love, but that word is too scary to say, too risky. Negan can’t say it out loud- not again, and not for certain.

They’re pressed center to center, balls flush against balls, dicks pressed together, shiny and slick and hard and sliding so deliciously and so frantically. They’re legs are in a tangle, a knot, a noose that is the product of the pursuit of a perfect position.

Rick has his hand around the both of them, stroking tightly, looking up at Negan with dark eyes.

Negan can’t return the look; his head is thrown back in pleasure, the angle of his neck making him choke on the moans bubbling up his throat.

The movement of his hips has a mind of its own, pushing further and further into Rick’s. 

He just wants to be closer, as close as he can get.

Negan is  _ so _ close, but not in all the ways he wants to be.

He looks down at where they touch, lets out a moan, “Fucking Christ, our cocks look so fucking good together.  _ Oh _ , you're gonna make me fucking cum, baby.” He’s whimpering now- whining, even. It feels so good he could fucking cry, and he squeezes his eyes shut again.

“Yeah?” Rick’s own voice is off, rocky and gruff, but determined to be stable, determined to be good, “Fucking cum for me, Negan. Want you to cum all over my cock. Can you do that for me?” Negan doesn’t answer, so he reaches out, grabbing at a chunk of Negan’s hair, pulling his head up to make their eyes meet, reiterating with a single, “Hm?”

Negan has his eyebrows pulled up in a grimace, and he almost looks troubled, almost looks pained. His eyes are glossy and warm, so hazel they almost look orange, and he nods like his life depends on it.

Negan follows up his promise with a harsh gasp and a spurt of silky white all along his and Rick's cock.

Rick hums, pleased, reaching a hand down to stroke himself, wet and slick with Negan's cum. 

Then his hand is to his mouth, tongue around his fingers, taking a taste of what Negan had to give as he stares into the boy’s eyes.

Negan’s gaze follows the motions of Rick’s mouth, those sinfully plush cherry lips, while his chest heaves with the comedown.

“Clean me up,” Rick says around his dirty fingers, voice even and sexy.

Negan is like jelly, so feeble and careless. He nods, quickly stealing a kiss from the boy who’s still hard against Negan's spent cock.

Then he moves to lay flat on his belly, head in between Rick's gorgeous thighs, eyes fixed upon his gorgeous cock, slick with lube and Negan's cum.

He’s so eager to please Rick, so happy. 

Negan takes Rick’s cock into his hand, strokes him smooth, and wet noises fill the air alongside Rick's content sighs. 

A hand falls in Negan's hair, tugging at the roots already, looking for an anchor to keep him in sane mind. 

Frank Ocean sings,  _ I’ll be the boyfriend in your wet dreams tonight. Noses on the rail, little virgin wears the white. _

Then Negan replaces his hand with his mouth, tasting himself mixed with Rick, feeling Rick heavy on his tongue, leaking his own sweet sap for Negan to lap up and cherish as he gasps with arousal, hips squirming and digging deep into the mattress.

Rick’s skin is so hot and flushed it could burn a hole right through the sheets and the springs and the memory foam, all the way down to the center of the earth.

It does not occur to Rick that maybe he's too young to be engaging in activities so intense it feels spiritual, or that maybe this is the best sex or intimacy he'll ever have in all his lives.

Because this is the only sex, the only intimacy he's ever fully had. In that moment, he figures all sex will feels this good. All exchange of body for body will feel this good.

Negan knows, deep down he knows, this is not body for body. This right here is soul for soul, and it is secret swapping between two young and noble energies. 

This is the highest he will ever be.

He doesn’t want to believe it though, because he thinks if this is true he might just go crazy.

This, what he's doing with Rick, is the epitome of love and connection.

It's love so palpable it’s been made into something physical. 

They're conjuring love, even if it may just be all Negan's, and none Rick's.

~

It’s been ten minutes and Negan’s still not here.

Rick’s just been stretching out his legs, but God he’s already so loose and like clockwork his dick is already getting hard with the anticipation of Negan's arrival.

The arrival that really should’ve be here by now, dammit.

With a sigh, Rick takes out his phone and shoots Negan a text.

_ Where tf r u??? _

Five minutes and he gets no reply. 

Rick thinks maybe it's because he’s driving, but if he were driving he’d be here by now.

Then he calls, and the phone rings on and on to no avail.

Then he shoots Lucille a text.

_ Do u know where Negan is? _

Soon enough, he gets an answer.

_ Sk8 park w Dwight, practicing faceplants. _

And that’s how Rick ends up running all the way to the skatepark.

It's all the way on the other side of the town, but that’s nothing. He used to run thirty miles in a day, running to the next city and running right back.

After a while, time becomes just a word when you run, and the pain and exhaustion is just old news.

Rick gets to the skatepark, and sure enough, there’s Negan's truck parked in the parking lot.

He gets closer to the bowl and sees Negan standing before Dwight, who sits on the edge of the bowl, with his board beneath his feet, looking grim and sweaty as he listens to the blond’s words that Rick himself cannot hear.

In fact, he’s not even so sure that blond figure is Dwight. It could be someone else, but Rick just assumes.

But Negan's form is unmistakable to Rick. He’s become well acquainted with that form.

With those long legs, and how they look draped in sweats, or sheathed in denim, or just bare and free. 

And the strong line of his jaw, made soft by the smoothness of his speckled teenaged skin. 

And those sturdy arms that Rick used to have to look away from during the earlier stages of basketball season, because it was all too much. 

Now Rick gets to stare, he gets to feel those arms around him, those big hands touching him.

There’s so many aspects to Negan that Rick finds so unique, but if there’s anything that stands out on Negan, it’s his hair; floppy and black and shiny, taking whatever form the wind or the idle air decides for the strands. 

It’s thick and effortless, perfect for Rick to pull on or run his fingers through whenever he feels like it, be it during sex or when they’re watching a movie or trying to go to sleep or just studying on the couch in the living room.

Negan's cute.

Rick likes Jesus- even if the guy never answers his texts or says more than three words at a time- but he thinks Negan is cute.

But Rick is just one of many tally marks: Everyone at school thinks Negan's cute, too. 

It's just normal.

It’d be weird if Rick thought Negan  _ wasn’t  _ cute.

Rick moves in closer, and he can see Negan become even more indignant to Dwight’s words (“Gosh, I didn’t say he was..”), sees his face fall and twist as he yells, “ _ He’s not my boy! _ ” 

By now, Rick has climbed onto the edge of the bowl, peering down upon Negan and standing a few feet from Dwight- both of which have yet to notice him.

“Who’s not your boy?” Rick asks, voicing his presence, brows furrowing with curiosity.

Negan’s head whips towards him, and he curses immediately when he gets a good look at Rick.

“Oh shit! Oh fuck, I fucking forgot!” Rick watches as Negan tucks his board under his arm, running up the edge of the bowl, slipping slightly, but making it nonetheless.

“Did you run all the way over here?” He asks when he finally gets face to face, eyeing Rick with guilt.

“Yeah,” Rick says dismissively, “It’s fine, I was just expecting you, that’s all.”

“You must be so fucking tired..”

Rick shakes his head, as if to banish Negan’s remorse.

Then, again he asks, “Who’s not your boy?”

Things were pretty quiet already, but now everything seems silent, like Negan isn’t breathing and neither is Dwight.

Negan gives Rick a look that’s blank, staying silent like maybe the boy will figure it out, but he doesn’t so Rick looks over at Dwight who’s looking down at his feet as if to give them privacy.

_ He really doesn’t have a clue _ , Negan thinks.

“No one,” he finally answers, “Some guy- you don’t know him. He’s not in the picture anymore.”

“Oh,” is all Rick says, still perplexed and wondering.

Negan looks over at Dwight and gives him a look. 

Dwight nods, and then Negan turns back to Rick, placing a hand on the small of his back, and leading him towards the parking lot.

Then Rick hops into his truck and Negan's hand is back to himself as he does the same.

Things are quiet as Negan drives, and the impatience can be felt radiating off of Rick. 

Negan knows what Rick is waiting for, knows what he wants.

“Pull over,” Rick says, because usually that’s what Negan would be doing right now if they were on that long country road.

“Where?” Negan says, to prove a point. There’s nowhere near where they could pull over and have privacy. 

“I don’t know,” Rick is annoyed now, “Somewhere!”

“You’re not hungry?” Negan asks, changing the subject, “We could get some food.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“You just ran a fuck ton of miles. You should eat something-”

“I want you to fuck me,” Rick cuts in urgently, not wasting a second.

They’re at a four way stop and Negan knows it's his turn to go but he stays in place, looking over at Rick with a blank, softened look.

The car behind him honks, and Negan tears his gaze away from Rick as he drives forward.

“I’m not doing that with you in my truck,” Negan says finally, voice dim and gray. 

“I don’t mind,” Rick assures.

Negan shakes his head. 

“Then let's go back to your house,” Rick suggests.

“My parents are home.”

“So the treehouse,” Rick continues, “We’ve done the treehouse before.”

Negan spares a quick glance at the boy, and Rick is looking right back at him.

“No,” Negan says, “Not right now.”

Rick scoffs, “Why not?”

_ The same reason you  _ do.

“Because I don’t want to,” Negan says instead, exasperated, and the slight raise in his voice aggravates Rick.

“Yes, you  _ do _ .”

“For fucks sake, Rick! How the hell do you know what I fucking want right now? You don’t know shit! You know fuck all!”

“Isn’t this what you wanted since the beginning?! Isn't this the whole reason you started talking to me again?” Rick’s questions bite at Negan's face, “I’m giving you what you always wanted, so just take it!”

At that, Negan goes quiet. 

He keeps on driving, stealing small glances at Rick in the corner of his eye, until he can’t help himself and he starts taking full view of the boy.

Rick gives him a dry look. 

“What do you want?” He says, slightly sheepish beneath Negan’s microscope, “You're gonna crash if you don’t stop lookin’ at me and get your eyes on the road,” he mutters.

Negan heeds his warning, faces forward again, still silent and pensive.

“You really wanna do this?” He finally asks, when they’ve pulled into Negan’s driveway.

Rick is startled by Negan’s voice. He hadn’t been expecting the boy to speak.

“Yeah,” he nods.

Negan’s face turns with curiosity, with the need for explanation, “Why?” He asks, although he knows.

He knows why.

“Do I have to have a reason?” Rick retorts, growing uncomfortable.

Negan takes a breath. 

He doesn’t want to argue with Rick- not ever, but especially not right now.

Not if they’re about to do this.

“No,” Negan swallows, “but if you have one, I wanna know,” then he asks, “You just want me to take that from you? You’re okay that it's  _ me _ taking that? Your virginity, I mean.”

“Don’t call it that,” Rick grimaces, “It makes it sound so weird.”

A smirk breaks through Negan’s straight face, “Well what the fuck else do you want me to call it, Blue? Your virtue? Your-” Negan stutters on a laugh, “your  _ flower _ ?”

Rick smiles, a chuckle slipping from his lips, and it lightens the air between them just like that.

Then it dissipates, leaving a peace, a ground for honest admissions.

Rick’s face goes soft and straight and earnest, “I want you to take it because I feel comfortable around you…” he admits, slightly bashful, “Safe,” he says, nodding, “I feel safe with you.”

And maybe Negan is desperate and maybe he’s delusional, but he sees that as another way of Rick unintentionally saying I love you.

“Safe enough to make mistakes I don’t wanna make with somebody else,” Rick adds, and there it is.

-

Up in the treehouse, hard sturdy wood.

Creaks and groans and freaky moans.

They’ve been up here so many times before- most of the time as little kids, playing board games and seeking refuge in a place that offered a little but not too much independence from Negan’s parents.

Recently though, their reasons as to being up here are not as innocent.

At first it was just a quick nostalgic trip prompted by Rick’s inquiry of “How long has it been since you’ve gone up there?” And Negan’s response of “I don’t think I’ve gone up there since you fuckin’ left.”

That’s how they ended up climbing up the steps to the treehouse, sitting inside and realizing that there was really nothing in there worth seeing.

As for feeling, that’s another thing. There was tons to feel; nostalgia and boredom and longing and a natural attraction to one another.

A good looking boy and a good looking boy- one ridden with hormones a-raging and the other smitten and love drunk.

They start kissing and they start taking their clothes off, and that’s how the treehouse became the godforsaken sexhouse.

When they get back home, the sun is already setting, and Texas is getting darker by the minute.

Rick goes up into the treehouse while Negan sneaks inside his house to get the basic first time necessities.

“Is that a candle?” Rick asks once the boy has successfully lugged himself and his belongings inside their getaway.

“Yup,” Negan answers easily, slightly smug, “Honey lavender, baby.”

Rick gives an entertained smile, “Why?”

“What do you mean why?” Negan says, pulling out a box of matches and lighting up the three wick candle. “One, it's fucking dark as fuck in here already. Two, this place smells too much like cum to be fucking normal. And three, it sets the fucking mood, mellows shit out… just don’t knock it over or throw one of the blankets down onto it cause then our little fuckhouse will burn down to the fucking ground in a jiffy.”

Rick blinks, shakes his head free of Negan’s overwrought tone, and shrugs as he begins getting undressed.

Negan turns around just in time to see Rick pulling at the tie of his sweatpants and tugging them down.

“ _ Heyheyhey _ , wait!” Negan calls, “I haven’t even put the blankets down yet, for crying out loud, dammit.”

Rick blushes, “Sorry…” he mumbles, bringing his sweats back up to his waist, “I thought maybe it would make things easier if- if maybe the clothes were just gone.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Negan says, apologetic, “It would, It’s just I-”

_ I want this to be perfect. _

“It’s better not to rush things,” Negan says instead, “Let's take it slow, okay? Let’s just let things play out and… and le’ts just make this as natural as fucking possible. I think that’s our best bet.”

Rick nods, “Okay.”

Negan lays the blankets down and props up the pillows, using his phone to turn on some mood music before they lay down on their sides, facing each other.

Rick leans in, planting a kiss on Negan’s lips with deep conviction, snaking his arms around his neck.

Negan pulls away, putting a hand on Rick’s shoulder as he looks at the boy’s face.

“What?” Rick asks.

“Nothing,” Negan says, shaking his head and smiling softly, because there’s no way to say  _ I wanna look at your face forever and I wanna have this image of you so virginal and sweet and young in my head for the rest of my life, before I take it away from you and it dies and goes away _ , without sounding fucking insane or weird.

Then their motions continue flowing, and Negan doesn’t stop Rick’s lips from being on his; he just lets it be.

He lets his hand roam, lets them meet all the dips and curves of Rick’s body, and he lets himself pretend this isn’t all happening under the circumstances that it is.

For that moment, he lets himself believe Rick loves him back, that Rick wants him in the same way. 

He takes Rick’s tongue in his mouth and savors his taste and his rhythm, letting their connection circuit through every point their bodies meet- strongest in their mouths.

Rick’s hands grab at Negan’s clothes, pulling and tugging impatiently, and grinding up on Negan’s thigh.

Negan keeps a hand on the small of Rick’s back, an anchor of pleading sorts, taking his time lavishing as much of Rick’s skin in overzealous kisses, starting from the corners of his mouth all the way down to his collarbones.

That’s when he finally grabs the hem of Rick’s hoodie, helping the boy pull it over his head and toss it aside.

Still he’s left in a thin white t-shirt, and Negan makes him loiter in it as he climbs atop Rick’s body, moving to straddle his lap and silence his needy pace with an achingly slow kiss and a heavy roll of the hips that makes Rick moan into Negan’s mouth as he chases the sensation.

All the while Negan grazes the softest skin he’s ever touched: a hand up Rick’s shirt, rubbing warmth into goosebumps and clutching his flesh so hard and tight.

He’s trying to take it slow, but he can’t. He wants Rick so completely, so direly.

Is it possible to be fast and gentle? Negan’s gonna try.

Negan breaks the kiss to strip Rick of his t-shirt, leaving Rick gasping with swollen lips, arms up and then reaching out for the solid teen above him.

But Negan’s mouth has other plans, and his lips gravitate towards the bright pale skin, to the hardened nipples pert with excitement.

Negan leaves a trail of erratic kisses down Rick’s throat, licking soft against the prominent planes of Rick’s collarbones and moving further down so he can nuzzle his face against Rick’s chest, feeling the sparse hairs tickle at his face like tiny butterfly wings.

One thing Negan loves about girls is their soft chests, their warm and pillowy breasts.

Before Rick, he hardly cuddled after sex, but when he did, he always preferred being held to holding. 

He loves having a face full of tit, simply put it, and while Rick doesn’t exactly have a fat pair of honkers, he’s also not apart of the itty bitty titty committee, so his pecs are fairly sized.

And you bet your ass Negan’s taking advantage of that.

Negan hums against the broadness of Rick’s chest, moving his head side to side, before sticking his tongue out and attending to one of the nipples that tickles at his chin.

Rick hums back, taking Negan’s head in his hands and weaving his fingers through Negan’s hair, whimpering in pleasure at the wet, swirling, sucking sensation on one side of his chest and the rough rubbing of a calloused thumb on the other.

He arches his back, bringing his chest further into Negan’s face before his whines grow louder and he urges the boy’s head down lower.

Negan pulls away easily, leaving one last kiss on Rick’s pec before he ventures down the path of hair gracing Rick’s abdomen, sucking hard marks into the fleshier parts near his groin and suggestively running his tongue around the rim of Rick’s navel, making Rick’s hips stir.

Then Negan’s stripping himself free of his own t-shirt, feeling the need to be skin to skin with Rick, and tossing it aside, cursing when it nearly lands on the candle.

Rick chuckles with amusement and Negan smiles back at him, yanking Rick’s sweats down his legs as the boy lifts his hips up, easily and graciously allowing Negan to undress him further. 

Undressing is always the easy part for them; the most natural part. They’ve done it so many times with each other, they’ve become accustomed to it.

Negan takes Rick’s hips in his hands, mouthing messily at the defined bulge clothed in tight cotton spandex, leaving wet stains of attention on the fabric until finally he pulls Rick’s boxer briefs off, too, leaving Rick bare and delicious before him.

Rick’s cock is flushed and stiff against his pale belly, looking stark and craved.

Negan leans in, licking a stripe against the length of him, from the silky flesh of Rick’s balls, to the shiny, taut flesh of the already leaking head. 

He closes his mouth around the tip, lapping up Rick’s arousal with a swirl of his tongue, digging deeper into the slit and making Rick groan and gasp, his fingernails digging deliciously into Negan’s tender scalp.

Rick always leaves Negan’s hair so ruffled after a blowjob, always runs his fingers through it to get it back into place when they’re lying side by side basking in the lucidness of their orgasms.

Before Negan can start bobbing his head up and down on Rick’s cock, Rick’s hand pushes on Negan’s head again, murmuring a one worded order of, “Lower…”

And just like that, Negan’s heading further down, leaving his mark of everlasting affection on every tender inch of skin- inner thigh to inner thigh to perineum- until he’s met with the sweet dip of Rick’s hole.

He can feel his mouth watering at the sight alone.

“On your back, ass up,” Negan orders, giving Rick’s hip a light slap, “I want you right in my fucking face.”

Rick follows wordlessly, and Negan naturally gravitates behind him, hands on Rick’s ass, spreading him apart and squeezing the plushness of his cheeks.

“I swear to God, you have the cutest fucking ass I’ve ever seen,” Negan marvels, leaning in to press a kiss on one cheek, and smacking the other with a heavy hand.

Rick shrieks, “Stop it,” he mutters, but if the flush traveling all the way down his neck and onto his shoulders says anything, he’s more than flattered.

Negan smiles, then focuses on the task at hand, spreading Rick apart again and flicking his pointed tongue softly against Rick’s tight hole, feeling the way the boy purses against him in surprise and listening out for that sure-fire moan.

“ _ God,” _ Rick hisses, “More,  _ fuck _ , I need more.”

And Negan delivers, lapping at Rick’s with the flat of his tongue until he’s loud and pliant, gasping and shaking as Negan plunges his warm, wet tongue into his hole, opening his jaw wide for greater leverage, and going at it until it aches and then some.

Rick could cum like this. In fact, Rick has had dreams about coming like this, has actually cum like this a few times, too.

It takes every little morsel of willpower in his body to gasp out, “Fingers! I-I’m ready for your-  _ ahh!-  _ fingers.”

Negan pulls free from his ass, breathing heavily, and leaning over him, his denim clothed cock flush against his ass, “You want my fingers, baby?” Negan asks, and his voice is thick and sweet like sap from a tree.

Rick nods, leaning his head to the side so Negan can mouth at his neck, “Wanna suck your cock, too.”

Negan chuckles against Rick’s skin, and Rick feels the smirk and the teeth on his neck.

“I think it’s time for us to pull out my favorite little number, then,” Negan says, “You know what that is, Blue?”

Rick shakes his head no.

“Sixty-nine, baby!” He hollers, “ _ Fuck yeah!” _

Rick shushes him immediately; one, because of the neighbors and two, “Right next to my ear, Negan? Really?”

Negan laughs with mischief, pulling away from Rick’s body to lie beside him, “Just put your cute ass in my face already.”

Rick sighs, but goes on to straddle Negan's face and unbutton Negan's jeans, pulling out his cock and immediately taking half of Negan’s length into his mouth, making curses of pleasure slip off the boy’s tongue and his fingers falter in their touch.

But soon he finds his cool again, at first sinking just a single finger into Rick as he sucks lightly at the boy’s balls.

Negan thrusts lightly into Rick’s mouth, careful not to push the boy over his limits, and Rick moans around Negan's cock whenever one finger turns to two and when those fingers brush up against his spot- that’s when he has to pull off completely, gasping into Negan’s balls and scrunching up his eyes and his nose because he can’t focus on anything except how good it fucking feels to be touched like this.

It's when Negan tucks in a third finger that things stop feeling so great, and Rick lets out a small cry, startling Negan back to reality.

“Shit, I’m sorry. You alright, baby?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Rick says, but his voice is tight, “just- just don’t move your fingers yet, I need to.. I’m trying to-”

“You sure? I can take ‘em out if you want, Blue, it's no big deal. If it’s too much we can do this some other time, okay? We have time, I fucking promise you.”

“No, no I wanna do this right now, just…” Rick goes quiet and Negan wishes he could see the boy’s face, see what’s going on in there, “Just need more lube,” Rick says finally, “Just use more lube.”

Negan nods, grabs the bottle just a few feet away from him with his empty hand before he pulls out his fingers and recoats them with the slick fluid, this time more generously.

“You ready?” Negan asks, rubbing circles into the soft skin of Rick’s ass with his thumb.

Rick nods, but Negan feels him still so drawn with tension, so he goes back in with his mouth, slipping his tongue past the taut ring of muscle and soothing the rigidness that lies there, leaving his hole wet and shiny.

Then the fingers are back in, and they’re not nearly as uncomfortable this time, but Rick still needs a moment to adjust.

“You’re doing so good, baby,” Negan praises, shuddering as Rick continues to bathe his cock in wet, warm attention, “Suck my fucking cock. Get it all nice and wet for your cute little ass-  _ fuck _ , you’re so good, baby.”

Negan moves his fingers when Rick tells him to, rubbing around in his lush insides for that one spot he’d found just a minute ago- and when he finds it, he has Rick fucking back onto his fingers, dick slapping and leaking against Negan's chest, already back at full mast.

Then Rick is grabbing the pack of condoms that somehow found their way beneath the blanket, and he’s tearing open the metallic wrapper and replacing his mouth with the snug fit of a latex condom.

Negan tosses him the lube, and then the snip of a bottle is heard, and Rick is stroking him slick.

“Lay down, Blue,” Negan orders gently, removing his fingers and giving a final kiss to Rick’s ass before he lets the boy go.

Rick lies down and Negan rolls over on top of him, settling between his legs.

“You’re sure you want this?” Negan asks, just to make sure, “It’s not too late to back out, I just want you to know, okay?”

“ _ Yes!”  _ Rick groans, impatient, wrapping his legs tight around Negan's waist, pulling him in closer, “Yes, I want this, now put it in me.”

“If you fuckin’ say so, your majesty,” Negan says, and he nudges the head of his dick against Rick’s opening.

Rick grabs onto Negan’s arm at his side as the boy starts pushing in at an achingly slow pace for the both of them.

Negan makes him feel so full, and Rick has the tightest fucking ass Negan has ever been in.

Rick’s holding his breath, looking into Negan's eyes, and Negan looks back and finds he almost can’t stand the clear crystal blue shade of trust and honesty and utter pleasure staring right into his eyes and past his soul, so he leans in and takes Rick’s mouth for a kiss, making both of their eyes shut.

And then Negan is buried inside of Rick, inside of searing heat and soft flesh.

He can feel his breath clogging in his throat and he has to pull away, instead hiding his face in Rick’s neck.

Rick gives a curious grind of his hips, making both of them moan loudly before they can help themselves.

“You feel so good, Rick,” Negan whines, his breath fanning against Rick’s skin, “You feel so fucking good.”

Rick grinds down on him again, desperately getting out the words, “Fucking move, now,  _ please _ .”

Negan obliges, a bit overzealous, and Rick places a gentle hand on his hip, “Slow,” he supplies, and again Negan listens, making accommodations, trying to make it as good for Rick as possible, slowly rolling his hips into the boy.

“Slow,” Rick repeats, and it’s more of a sigh than a command, and it turns into more of a mantra as Negan carries on, thrusting long and deep.

“Slow,” Rick sighs, digging his nails into Negan’s back, chasing the way Negan rocks into him.

“Look at me,” Rick says in lieu of his one worded mantra, and that’s the last thing Negan wants to do right now.

But that breathless sound in his voice mixed with the sweetness of his tone casts a spell on Negan, and he has no choice but to obey.

And when he sees Rick’s flushed face, full of bliss as his lips lay parted and lonesome, as his eyes carry buckets of color and of solid pupil, Negan wishes he hadn’t looked up.

Rick is so beautiful it hurts him, stabs him right in the chest.

Rick brings a hand up to slide against the stubble of Negan's cheek and cup the prickly flesh, “Fuck me,” he says, “Fuck me like I’m someone else,” and Negan has no time to think about what that could mean because then he’s taking Rick’s legs over his shoulders, and pulling the boy flush against his groin, clutching tightly at his hips as he fucks into him without remorse, letting out a long, animalistic groan that Rick accompanies with shaky, breathless cries.

“So good,” Rick gasps, bringing Negan down for a kiss, hands traveling down the nap of his neck, digging his nails into the firm skin of his back and shoulders, “You’re fucking me so good, Negan. Make me cum,  _ please _ make me cum.”

Negan never relents, just presses his body further into Rick’s, feeling how the boy’s cock is sandwiched between their stomachs, gaining friction with each quick thrust of Negan’s hips.

He lays his sweaty forehead against Rick’s, reaching up to tangle a hand in Rick’s damp curls.

When Rick comes, Negan feels the way the breeze of Rick’s breath stutters against his lips, the way his head tips back and leaves Negan’s forehead half lonely, the way their stomach marry together with his sticky load, the way the tight walls of his ass clench down like a vice around Negan's cock.

He takes Rick’s lips in a kiss, giving him no time to breathe, and swallowing down his cries of startled overstimulation as Negan continues to fuck into his ass until he’s met that one final thrust.

Then it’s Rick who swallows down cries, and then it’s the both of them lying loosely in each other arms, heaving for breath and a stable frame of mind.

“How was it?” Negan asks, face so close to the plane of Rick’s neck that he can almost hear the faint thump of his steady regulating pulse.

“Good,” is all Rick says, half lidded and lackadaisical, letting out a deep sigh before he mumbles, “Could go for some pancakes…”

Negan lets out a chuckle, looking up at Rick to gauge his demeanor, but instead finds the boy with his eyes closed, looking an inch from sleep.

“I’ll make you some,” Negan promises, and Rick just gives a soft and happy hum in reply, turning to the other side and leaving a gap of space between them.

Negan rolls onto his back, feeling a slight sting as his raw, scratched skin meets the ground.

He’s been so absorbed in Rick he hadn’t even noticed the music, or the sounds of his neighbors having a barbecue, or the whirring of the cars coasting by.

He hones in on the song playing, and it's the same song that always plays when he and Rick are boning, because of course.

Negan has heard the song so many times that it’s become boring, but now, mingled with the sounds of his neighborhood and of Rick softly sleeping, Negan has no choice but to listen to all the words he already knows.

And it's just a few lines, but they yank him back down from his throne on the highest cloud.

_ Keep a place for me. _

_ I’ll sleep between y’all it’s nothing. _

Just like that, he’s reminded. 

His emptiness returns, and he wants to wake Rick up and be completely filled once again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank u all for reading!! I hope u enjoyed and as always, feedback and constructive criticism are more than welcome :) <33


	16. Black

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> songs mentioned:  
> im not gonna teach your boyfriend how to dance with you by Black Kids (bop)  
> backpocket by vulfpeck (bop)  
> khmlwugh by homeshake (bop)  
> red light by the strokes (actually a really sad song disguised as a bop)

Negan thinks maybe Rick doesn’t like Jesus so much anymore.

Jesus hardly answers Rick’s texts, and when he does it’s hours, sometimes days, later.

Negan wants to go and find Jesus and punch him in the face for being such a fucking jerk, but also he kind of wants to thank him for giving Negan leeway to show Rick just how amazing he could potentially be as a boyfriend compared to that long haired dick.

Rick doesn’t seem to notice it too much, though. He’s too busy staring at his damn phone, checking for new messages- and Negan knows from who.

They’re in his truck, parked in the far back of the school parking lot, with the windows fogged and Rick in his lap, making out just before the bell for first period can ring, when they both hear the muffled ding from Rick’s pocket.

Quickly, Rick pulls back, leaving Negan to chase his lips desperately as he rushes to get his phone out.

Negan watches the bright and vivid glow of excitement written all over Rick’s face die when his eyes glance over the screen, kiss swollen lips pulling in a frown.

It was just a damn e-mail; some high tuition colleges looking to recruit him.

Still Rick opens up his messages, opens up his and Jesus’ short conversation, just to see what he already knows, but wishes wasn’t so: no new messages.

The last message between them was of course from Rick, and it was a stupid cliche conversation starter of a question, a desperate attempt at getting the boy to talk to him.

_What’s your favorite color?_

Rick rolls his eyes, sighs out in frustration.

He’s so fucking _dumb_ , so pathetic.

Obviously Jesus doesn’t want him, obviously he thinks Rick isn’t worth his time, and obviously he thinks Rick is just some stupid little boy.

But if he doesn’t want him, why did he make Rick that vase? Why did he go all out on Valentine’s Day for him? And why did he ask Rick out on a date to Creme Cup?

Rick is so lost in his head, chasing something resembling an answer, that he nearly forgets he’s still in Negan’s lap until the hands clutching at his sides start rubbing soothingly at his body.

“What’s wrong?” Negan asks softly, speaking his words into the crook of Rick’s neck, leaving small pecks of his lips as punctuation.

“Nothing,” Rick answers, so suddenly that Negan has to pull away and look up at the boy, because he just knows it's not _nothing_ , “It’s just that- I mean, he’s so- _God_ , he’s so-” Rick lets out an aggravated grunt, and just like that his eyes are welling up with tears and his frown is curling in deeper, leaving an awful wrinkle in his forehead that makes Negan’s stomach drop.

“ _Woah-_ hey!” Negan says, watching the first tear slip down Rick’s cheek, “ _HeyHeyHey!_ Don’t… don’t cry, Blue. Don’t cry over him, he’s not worth your fucking tears.”

Rick sniffles, lying his forehead down against Negan’s shoulder, hiding his face.

Negan moves his arms to fully encompass Rick in a hug, moving a hand to the nape of the boy’s neck so he can comb his fingers through frazzled curls.

“He’s a piece of shit,” Negan continues, speaking just below a murmur, “He's an idiot… thinks he’s cool as shit not texting people back. I don’t… I don’t even know why you like him, Rick. You’re too fucking good for him.”

Rick lifts his head to speak, gives a wet scoff, “Yeah, _I’m_ too good for him.”

Negan furrows his brows, pulls away to look Rick in the eyes, “You are,” he says, “You are too good for him.”

Rick searches Negan’s gaze for fault or mocking, but he finds nothing but earnesty.

He sighs, saying, “I just- I just want someone to want me,” he lies his head back down on Negan’s shoulder, “He’s the only gay kid at our school who’s out. The only one who wouldn’t keep us a secret if we were together- and we _could_ be together if I just wasn’t so… awkward or-or lame.”

“You are _not_ fucking lame,” Negan cuts in firmly, careful when he adds, “and I thought you didn’t want to be out? I thought you weren’t ready for that yet?”

“I’m still iffy about it,” Rick admits, “But… when I think about being with him- with Jesus- I’m not… I _want_ to be out. I want to be with him and I want everyone to know.”

 _All that after one date?_ Negan thinks.

He’s known Rick all his life and Rick has known Jesus for just a month, yet Rick wants to be with _him._ Wants to be out with _him._

_I wouldn’t be ashamed to hold your hand._

_I would wave that shit around like these acorn wielding, conservative ass Texans parade their confederate flag bumper stickers on the back of their Dodge rams._

_I want you so bad, I dream about it sometimes. Not even wet dreams but just dreams of us, being together like a real couple, smiling and laughing and kissing with all the same feelings in heart and in mind._

“Oh,” is all Negan says, swallowing down the hearty lump building in his throat and thanking God that Rick can’t see him right now, because he probably looks so puny and pathetic.

He moves his nose further into Rick’s neck, trying to find comfort in the person that’s hurting him so much. Somehow it always works, even though he has to pretend.

But as soon as he finds that solace, Rick is moving again, fishing his phone out of his pocket because it’s gone off yet another time and now it's actually Jesus.

“Oh _shit_!” Rick cries, full of sudden glee that stands stark against his tear stained cheeks, “It’s him! It’s fucking him!” He pounds on Negan’s chest with an excited fist.

“What did he say?” Negan asks, frown now permanently embedded in his face as he brings a hand up to Rick’s fist, stilling its antsy motions.

Rick reads through the message, eyes skimming his phone, and then suddenly he’s back in the passenger's seat, checking his appearance in the visor mirror and then quickly saying, “I gotta go!” before hopping out and running in the other direction.

-

Quickly, Rick makes his way towards the courtyard, hoping against hope that he makes it before the bell, before Jesus smokes his last cigarette and ditches the place completely.

He’s jogging past the crowded cafeteria and past the doors to the outside, when he’s met with another hard body bumping into his and the harsh smell of dirty tobacco.

“Woah,” says a voice, smug and all, and that voice has its hands on Rick’s hips, helping him keep his balance, “Who are you running around for, huh?”

Rick looks up, immediately flustered because he’s so close to the boy he can only stare at his lips and breathe in deeply the scent of his cologne.

“Um, I was just- I was- I came to… you texted about a- about a party.”

Jesus struggles to link up his broken speech, but puts two together after a while.

“Oh yeah,” He nods, running one hand through the base of his long hair, and letting his other hand slide down Rick’s hip, sidling high up on his thigh, “Forgot I sent that to all my contacts.”

Rick fishmouths, “Oh? You did?”

Jesus nods, smiles, “Tell everyone you know, BYOB.”

Rick smiles, but it’s weak and crooked and only there to mask his real disappointment from Jesus.

“I wanna see you there,” Jesus continues, that smooth tone returning as his hand snakes behind Rick, giving his ass a quick squeeze, “Wear something cute,” he says, and then all his touches fall away, and he’s walking past Rick and into the school.

Rick hadn’t realized he’d been holding his breath until he gasps out, laughing incredulously at what just happened and how it’s left him incredibly unsatisfied and craving more.

-

Rick meets Negan at his locker.

He didn’t mean to sneak up on him, but that’s just what happens.

He’s walking up to Negan, watching the boy grab books and shuffle through a mess of papers, surveying the contents of his little space.

There’s a tiny little basketball hoop hanging from his locker door, a picture of him and his old teammates last year when they won district champs and made it to playoffs (they didn’t do that this year), and a small card with Lucille’s picture on it.

She’s wearing her cheerleading uniform and the way the picture is formatted makes it look like a baseball card collectible.

Beneath his locker divider is a stash of origami flowers with pointy paper petals, some of them look really old, others look fresh.

“Your locker’s a mess,” Rick says, and his voice right over Negan's shoulder makes the boy jump and curse.

“For the love of fucking God and _shit_! How long have you been standing there?”

“Like a few seconds.”

Negan breathes out and shuts his locker door, joining Rick on their walk to first period.

“You need a picture of me in there,” Rick says easily.

“What?”

“In your locker- you need a picture of me in there,” he repeats.

Negan quirks an eyebrow, a smile on his lips before he can help himself, “Why?” He asks, and his spirits are lifted in hope.

“Because,” Rick says, “You have a picture of Lucille in there and she’s your friend. I’m your friend, too, so you need one of me now, too.”

Negan’s smile doesn’t fade, but it does get dimmer.

“Yeah, okay,” he says, “I’d like that.”

“I don’t know where I'd get one though.”

“You can just give me one of your yearbook pictures,” Negan suggests, “The ones we got in like October or some shit.”

“Like a wallet sized one?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay,” Rick nods, “But if I give it to you, you’ve gotta do something for me.”

Negan bites his lips, “Oh yeah?” He says, brow raising lewdly, “Like what?”

Rick rolls his eyes at Negan, but his nerves peek through when he asks, “Jesus is throwing a party this Saturday. Will you come with me?”

Negan’s about to ask _like a date?_ when Rick says, “And ask Lucille if she wants to go, too. He said to invite as many people as possible.”

Negan swallows down his spit.

He really doesn’t like parties too much anymore, doesn’t like drinking, either.

He can get weed from Dwight and Rick is supplying him with enough ass these days, so parties to him are virtually useless now.

Especially since he doesn’t have much of a reputation these days.

But he’s not about to let Rick go to this party alone- not with Jesus there trying to suavely get into his pants, and not when there’s gonna be alcohol and drugs and not when it’s more than likely the first party Rick’s ever been to.

So he says, “Okay. Sounds fuckin’ cool. Yeah, I’ll ask Lucille.”

Rick smiles, leans into Negan’s side in a half assed hug, “Thank you!” He says, squishing his head against Negan’s shoulder before he pulls away, remembering, “Oh! And he said BYOB. I don’t know what that means. Maybe he misspelled it.”

Negan stifles a laugh with a warm smirk, and he wants to lean in and kiss Rick so bad.

But for many reasons, he can’t, so he settles for squeezing the side of the boy’s neck beneath his hand, making him squeal with surprise.

-

“How does my ass look in these jeans?” Rick asks Negan on Saturday night, turning to look at his backside in Negan’s full body mirror.

Negan’s thrown off by the question, but he’d never put off a good excuse to stare at Rick’s ass, so of course he ogles… for science.

“Good…” Negan says and his voice is barely an inch away from a moan as he adds, “Mouthwatering.”

Rick rolls his eyes, shooting Negan an indignant look, “I’m being serious.”

“Yeah, me fuckin’ too,” Negan huffs, and Rick turns around to face him, “Why are you asking? I’ve told you I don’t know how many times, you have the cutest ass in the fucking world.”

Rick smirks, “Yeah, I bet your last five screws had the cutest asses in the world, too.”

Negan scoffs, “Fuck you,” and he’s only half joking when he says, “That hurt.”

Rick laughs, pulls at the belt loops of Negan's jeans and says, “C’mon, let's go get Lucille.”

-

“Where the _fuck_ is the car?” Lucille asks upon the sight of Rick and Negan waiting on her doorstep, overdressed and smelling like luxury.

“Obviously not fuckin’ here,” Negan says.

“No shit,” she says, “But why?”

“I’m not gonna be the designated driver, _you’re_ sure as hell not gonna be the designated driver, and I'd rather have you drive drunk than have Rick drive sober- which I don’t even wanna think about having it all come down to that, so yeah…. we’re fuckin’ walking.”

“I’m not _that_ bad at driving…”

“Yeah, you really are,” Lucille says, walking down her porch like each step drains a gallon of life out of her.

“Hey! You’re the one who decided to paint your nails while I drove down the _only_ street in this neighborhood with potholes.”

“I had a giant chip on my middle finger…”

Rick opens his mouth to say something but Negan beats him to it.

“ _Anyways_ ,” He cuts in, “Let’s get fuckin’ movin while the night is still young.”

And like that, they’re venturing down the road, making their way to this party.

Halfway there, they start going uphill and Lucille complains like no other, even though she’s probably the most athletic out of the three of them, so Negan has to give her a piggyback ride and haul her up the rest of the way.

Cars pass by them and honk- probably their classmates. They stick their heads out of their windows and holler excitedly at them, crying out loud, party ready whoops.

That’s how they know they’re getting close; that and the quiet tinker of music that grows in volume the longer they walk on.

Then they feel bass in their chest, and people chilling out on a lawn, and they figure yup this is their stop.

Negan sets Lucille down, gathering his breath.

He turns to Rick, whose eyes glow astounded at the sight before him, “You ever been to a party before?” He asks.

Rick shakes his head no.

“Don’t worry,” Negan assures, “parties are easy. Everyone’s drunk and nice and wanting to be your friend again- it’s like kindergarten but with beer pong and bongs and weed brownies.”

“And with people trying to put their hand down your dress,” Lucille tacks on.

Rick blinks, “Oh… thanks.”

They walk into the party and are immediately struck with the wafting stench of both tobacco and marijuana.

Negan and Lucille are unfazed, looking casual, but Rick starts coughing right on his first breath.

“You okay?” Negan asks, a hand lying soothingly on the small of Rick’s back. He’s speaking at the top of his voice, but Rick can barely hear him with the loudness of the music, “You want a drink?”

Rick nods, still coughing, laughing through it despite himself.

“Beer? Water? Soda? A shot?”

“Um… just-just… water,” Rick says through his hacking lungs, “For now.”

Negan nods and his hand slides smoothly off of Rick’s back, rifling his shirt up, “I’ll be right back!” He yells, and dissolves into the rowdy group of people, going to find the kitchen without any clues.

Somewhere between this all, Lucille had wandered off on her own, and now, Rick is left there alone- though surrounded by so many odd people and noises.

He looks around and tries to see if he recognizes anyone, but if he does, it's no one he actually talks to.

He tries to find Jesus, looks for leather and denim and long brown hair, and when Negan gets back from the kitchen, Rick isn’t where he was before, which leaves Negan in pursuit of him, walking around with a shot glass and a bottle of water.

A girl gets pushed into him as he sneaks around the dense group of dancing people, nearly sloshing his liquor right out the tiny glass.

“I’m so sorry!” The girl cries out, obviously drunk, and all Negan does is give her a reassuring look and tip his shot glass in her direction, giving her a toast before he swallows down the warm liquid, feeling it swell in his belly.

He finds Rick pressed up against a wall, Jesus propping himself up close with a hand just above Rick’s head, looking so much like the complete epitome of a cliche bad boy douchebag that Negan rolls his eyes.

But Rick looks smitten, looks so absorbed in whatever shit Jesus must be so sweetly spewing to him, smiling like a fool as Jesus smirks down at him.

For a second, Negan hesitates approaching Rick, but then he remembers who the fuck he is, and he teeters forwards.

“Blue!” Negan calls, and when Rick’s head flicks his way, looking utterly annoyed, Negan loses a large chunk of his confidence. Still, he hands Rick his drink, “Your water,” he says, suddenly forgetting how to speak.

Rick eyes him sheepishly, grabbing the bottle and letting out a quiet, “Thank you,” that no one can even hear.

Negan’s eyes go from Rick to Jesus, and the haughty teen with long hair is looking at him knowingly, his smirk condescending and his eyes mocking.

Negan swallows down his indignance and leaves back to the kitchen without sparing a glance at the boy (because he knows it’ll do more harm than good), looking for more shots, something strong.

A girl with short hair, neon and cherry red, is dancing while she mixes up drinks, and Negan wonders how she can concoct anything good with all that hair in her eyes.

But Negan asks her for something strong and she gives him something that tastes like what a battery’s tears would taste like if batteries could cry, so she definitely got the message.

Rick is still against the wall, visored by Jesus’ arm.

“Water?” Jesus says, taking the bottle and shaking it side to side uselessly in his big hand, “At a party?”

Rick blushes, “I- I… He must’ve heard me wrong, I.. didn’t ask for a water.”

“You didn’t?”

Rick shakes his head no.

“So what _did_ you ask for?”

Rick looks around, trying to find the answer in the wary shake of his own eyes.

“Um alcohol…” He says finally, “A lot of it.”

“Hm? A lot of it, huh?” Jesus smirks, “Well… why don’t I just go get you some, huh babe?”

“Oh-okay,” Rick says with a blushing smile, and Jesus revels in the effect he has on Rick before he leans in close, beard shifting with the crook of his smirk.

“Would you like that? Me getting you a drink?”

He feels the way Rick stops breathing at the thin distance between them.

The boy nods, quick with nerves.

Jesus leans in further, the tip of his nose brushing against Rick’s, and he sways his head softly from side to side, letting Rick know this contact was not an accident.

“And what about a kiss? From me to you- how would you like that?”

Rick’s lips part with surprise, and again he nods.

He feels Jesus’ beard brush against his chin, feels long and rough hairs tickling at his lips, and a soft tongue slip into his mouth, tasting like tobacco.

It's different from Negan- way different.

It’s sudden and to the point and maybe not as gentle. But Rick doesn’t know if he likes gentle anyways.

It’s over just as soon as it began, and then Jesus is smirking down at Rick.

Rick who looks so smitten and so dreamy, like whimsical royalty who’s just looked into the eyes of their lover.

“I’ll go get those drinks now.”

-

Negan gets shitfaced.

He’s always been a happy drunk, but only around people, and boy is he around people. There’s people around every air packed inch of him.

Innards soaked in alcohol and inhibition gone out the window, Negan leaves the kitchen just as Jesus goes in, heading towards the music when he hears a familiar tune and tone.

_You are the girl that I’ve been dreaming of ever since I was a little girl…_

And then he knows where he’s supposed to be- at least in that moment- and that place is the dance floor.

He elbows the air around him, wordlessly demanding a clear area for his boogie to be let out, and he gets just that.

Negan, drunk or sober, knows Rick is going to be spending the whole night fawning over Jesus. He’s accepted that.

And if he can’t do anything about that, if he can’t control that, well then he might as well try to have some fun without the boy.

So he dances his heart out- and after a few songs, Jesus is still not back.

Like the loyal puppy he is, Rick is still posted up by the wall, looking down at his feet and watching them grow until he realizes just how fucking creepy he must look.

Then he goes to look for Jesus, searching for the kitchen and finding it piled in cups and bottles and cans.

Near a bushel of red solo cups Rick finds him, but he’s busy chatting up some dude, and the worst part is that he actually looks invested in whatever the fuck they’re talking about.

Rick doesn’t like the way the other guy is looking at Jesus, the way his head is tilted flirtatiously or how his eyes follow Jesus’ lips.

He doesn’t like that Jesus actually looks interested in this guy, much more interested than he makes known with Rick.

Before he can be caught eavesdropping, Rick leaves, sulking away into the living room, where the music is loud and no one can be bothered to stare at him and question his odd doings or his lack of appeal.

Sitting on the couch, propped next to a couple completely invested in first base, he looks up at the makeshift dance floor.

There, he sees Negan, and he’s drunk as all hell, flailing around like a limp stalk of asparagus.

The boy looks more like he’s dancing alone in his room, not at a house party densely packed with all the classmates he puts a facade up for on the daily, Monday through Friday.

Must be the alcohol, Rick thinks.

The people near him seem to be liking this Negan as well.

Everyone flocks around him so naturally, throwing arms around the teen and joining him in his awkward drunken flailing, letting out supportive and excited cries and squinting their eyes full of laughter ridden smiles.

People still love him even though he’s not some douchebag basketball player high off his own power.

In fact they seem to love him even more now that he’s not.

It’s like they can finally see the truth in Negan and appreciate that for what it is.

Another song comes on, and everyone in the House goes wild with glee, letting out whoops and hollers.

Its a catchy number, a little ditty that rambles out _put it in my pocket, put it in my pocket, in my back pocket, put it in my pocket, in my pocket, in my back pocket._

Rick cringes as he watches Negan do the robot, turns his gaze away and sees Lucille near the doorway of the kitchen, lying against the frame and cringing, too.

He looks a little to the left of her and sees Jesus again, still with that dude, but now he’s walking upstairs with him, and he’s got a tight grip on the cuff of Jesus’ leather jacket.

Rick’s sulks yet again, and this time not even a glance at Negan can lift his spirits.

He’s knows what Jesus and that guy are gonna do in there, and it hurts even more to think about it when Jesus just kissed him.

He gets up and goes to the kitchen, finding that alcohol Jesus had promised to retrieve for him, thinking the more he drank the more he would feel better, more like how Negan looks, but it just makes him sadder and it makes it harder to stand up straight or think smart thoughts.

-

“I- I need you to… freakin’ help me!” Rick burns out.

“You called me out my groove for this bullcorn?!” Negan cries dramatically, “They we’re playing Soulja boy!”

They’re both drunk out of their minds, holding onto each other’s side so they won’t tip over the side of the porch they’re standing upon.

Rick whines, “You need to help me, Negan! I’m sad!” He frowns dramatically to prove a point.

Then Negans brow creases almost comically, and he reaches a hand out to stroke Rick’s face- never mind that he misses, “Don’t be sad, baby. My pretty f-fucking boy.”

“So help me!”

“Okay, but how?”

“Make me look sexy in front of him.”

“Sexy? That’s easy.”

“Thank you,” Rick smiles sweetly, and things go quiet as Negan smiles back.

Then he remembers his conviction, “He just cane back downstairs with that guy I think he was getting blown by.. So like, let’s like… sit on the couch down by the staircase and make out or something? Or is that lame?”

Negan gives a shrug of the lips, “Sounds pretty legit to me,” he slurs, and Rick grins at the approval, but for some reason, something in Negans brain ticks like maybe this isn’t such a good idea.

He doesn’t remember why it wouldn’t be, though, and the more he gawks at Rick’s lips, the more he forgets.

So they walk over to the living room, find a spot on the fornication couch just big enough for one, and that’s when Negan pulls Rick onto his lap.

Naturally, Rick’s head keeps turning to look at Jesus to see if he’s paying Rick any mind, and Negan puts a hand on the side of his cheek, making Rick’s eyes fix on him.

“Look at me, alright? You don’t care about him right now, okay?”

Rick frowns, Negan’s thumb grazing his dad cheek, “But he’s not looking at me.”

A new song starts, and it’s slow and relaxed, piquing everyone’s interest, making everyone look around- including Jesus.

“He will be,” Negan promises, and then his eyes flick down to Rick’s open lips, and the song sings out words.

_Something doesn’t feel quite right._

_My lips are dry, my shoes are too tight._

_I feel weird._

“Make sure he can see tongue,” Negan supplies, snapping himself out of his drunken reverie, “so it looks sexier.”

Rick nods, wraps his arms around Negan’s shoulders, slinking his fingers into the boy’s silky, silky hair. In some way, the feeling makes him tranquil.

Still cupping his cheek, Negan leans in, open mouths slotting together.

Their tongues glide against one another and Rick tastes like some type of beer that Negan can’t place right now, because he’s too busy clutching onto Rick’s hips, pushing the boy’s heaviness deeper into his lap.

There’s eyes on them- and not just from Jesus- but they’ve become gravely unaware of the feeling of being watched.

Negan slips a hand up Rick’s thin t-shirt, and Rick presses into the touch, squirming at the pulsing heat growing in his lap, trying to dig it further into Negan’s frictions.

Just as another song begins to play, and before Rick and Negan can get too explicit, someone yells out, “IT’S THE FUZZ!” and everyone is hoarding near the back exit.

Rick jumps quickly of off him, head spinning, and Negan is so lightheaded with the lasting effects of Rick that he’s so dazed.

He hears the new song that’s playing, the one everyone is missing, and recognizes it as the Strokes.

“Negan, get your ass up! The cops are coming, dumbass!”

“Wait!” Negan cries, “but I love this song!”

“You can hear it from outside!”

And he’s not lying, Negan can still hear it when they’re running blocks away, and the words make him smile and laugh so hard with glee that he and Rick have to stop running and sit in some bushes.

_Oh, I saw your face then I heard that song_

_It was so inviting, it hurt my bones_

_Well it looks like you but your eyes are gray_

_And your hair is gone but your minds okay_

_Yes I like your smile but your foreheads cold_

_I don’t want you to be afraid and go_

After a while of Negan giggling, Rick joins in for not particular reason, and then they’re laughing in each other’s faces, knowing no concept of personal space.

Then one of them leans in- who knows who at this point- pressing their lips together for a few quick pecks, laughter resuming once they pull away, hands finding each other’s, fingers linking together.

-

“Holy fucking God,” Negan says scrolling through a number of pictures he was tagged in on Instagram, speaking to Lucille on speaker phone, “You let me fucking go out looking like _this_ ?? You let me fucking take _pictures_ with people? I thought you were my friend, Lucy.”

“You look fine,” Lucille sighs, because it’s everyday with this guy, “In fact, you look like a fun fuckin’ guy. I would wanna party with that guy.”

“Yeah, but would you wanna fuck him?”

“Negan, I don’t know how many fucking times I have to go over this with you, but I don’t wanna fuck _any_ guy.”

Negan sighs, scrolling through his Instagram, finding Jesus’ account.

Though he knows he should, he goes on his page.

Instantly, he regrets it: this dude is basically a fucking model.

Its like his skin never gets oily, like he never sweats. He looks like the kind of dude that has scentless farts.

He has a few pictures posted from last nights party and his outfit is impeccably fucking trendy, not a hair out of place, hair and beard peacefully at par.

Whereas Negan looks like he fucking took a dip in the pool and just walked around dripping, cheeks flushing with his drunken state, wearing an old t shirt and some jeans he thought looked cool but look kinda wonky on him in pictures.

“Man, what the duck, Jesus has like no acne scars,” Negan frowns, still scrolling down Jesus’ feed, “his skin is so glowy… I wanna fucking glow.”

“Dude totally has a skin care routine,” Lucille tacks on.

Negan sighs, press his home button and taking Lucille of speaker, putting the phone to his ear, “Man, I need a new fucking look,” he says, sitting up in bed and looking at himself in the mirror, messing with his hair, “Who the fuck even am I, you know? The outside doesn’t match the outside.”

Lucille’s interest grows, raising an eyebrow as she speaks, “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

Negan nods, “Yup,” he says, and Lucille shrieks.

Negan moves the phone away from his ear as she screams out, “ _Makeover!!_ ”

“Where’s Rick?” She asks suddenlyZ

“Out with that bitch Jesus,” Negan rolls his eyes, “Said he needed to talk to Rick… what a bitch thing to say, man.”

“So you’re free? Meet me at my house. Bring some money… and tell your Mom you’re sleeping over.”

Sleeping over?” Negan guffaws, “What? Why?”

Negan hears the smirk on her face as she pauses, then says, “You’ll see..”

-

Shopping with Lucille is a process.

She takes for fucking ever, and she talks so much, and then she talks too little, and Negan’s feet start to hurt from standing for so long.

Negan has never liked shopping because he never thought he had a nice enough body for the kind of clothes he wanted to wear, and seeing them on the mannequins and on the catalogue models was taunting on top of taunting.

Negan gets dressed to go to Lucille’s house, anticipating a trip to the mall- dreading it, really.

He tries on t-shirt after t-shirt, jeans after jeans after sweatpants, and feels absolutely uncomfortable in everything.

Nothing he owns sits on him well, he thinks, but really its just him who sees it.

In the end, he gets frustrated and settles on his favorite pair of shorts and nothing else but the shoes on his feet.

“You goin’ to the river or something?” His Dad asks him when he sees Negan head out the door.

“Nah, I’m going to Lucille’s,” he supplies, and his Dad’s brows furrow with so many questions.

“O...kay?” He says in the end, and then Negan is in his truck, tits out, windows down, wondering if their local mall goes by the no shoes, no shirt, no service bullshit.

HA few minutes pass and he’s walking into Lucille’s house, saying hi to her Mom and her little sister without a fault in his step before he enters the girl’s room.

Lucille gets one look at him and sighs, shutting her eyes in search of her sanity.

“Why?” She asks, locking her phone, “Why do you show up at my house like this? Why is this not the first time you’ve ever done this?”

“Because I like to be fucking comfortable,” Negan answers, “Now let’s go.”

On the ride to the mall, Negan has second thoughts.

He trusts Lucille, kind of trusts her eye, admires her taste and her drama- but he just doesn’t trust that he’ll do her talents justice.

Negan’s too busy dwelling in his own irrational fears to notice their ride has stopped prematurely, but then he hears the sound of the driver’s door opening, and he’s back at the surface.

“Where the fuck are we?” Negan asks.

“Um, the thrift store?” Lucille says, like its obvious.

“We’re not going to the mall?”

“Fuck the mall,” Lucille says, shaking her head with a grimace, “What do you think I am? A millionaire? I worked at Burger King last year, for God’s sake. Thrifting is a god sent.”

Negan shrugs, “I don’t give a fuck, dude. As long as you’re doing the shopping. I trust you with that shit… mostly because I don’t fucking like shit like this, but I trust you.”

“Oh God,” Lucille says, with a goofy smile, “You sure know how to warm this lil ole heart of mine.”

-

“Is this supposed to fucking burn this bad??” Negan asks, face stiff with a clay facial mask as Lucille slathers some terrible smelling concoction onto his hair.

“That’s what she said.”

“Lucille!” He yells, and it sounds funny because he can’t move his mouth, “I fucking mean it, I swear to fucking God if my hair falls out-”

“It’s not gonna fall out, you big baby! I’ve done this before, now sit back, relax, and chill.”

Negan lets out a haggard breath and shuts his eyes, trying to make the most of his comfort as he sits crisscross in Lucille’s bathtub, the girl close behind him.

“What color are we even doing?” He asks, voice curious.

“That’s for me to know and you to find out,” Lucille supplies easily.

Negan scoffs, “What if I hate it? What if it looks really bad on me?”

“It won’t,” Lucille says with confidence, “I’ve thought long and hard about this. You got the coloring to pull it off… and the hairstyle.”

Negan sighs, tries to believe her, “Whatever you say…”

Nearly an hour of an itchy head later and Lucille is finally washing off the mask and shampooing his hair, not letting him peep at a single strand.

Negan thinks that’s it, and that they’re done, but then he finds out there’s more steps.

At one point he sees some purple goop smeared across Lucille’s hand and he cries out, “Purple! You’re dying it fucking purple!”

To which Lucille just calmly shakes her head no, making Negan groan.

She washes it again, blow dries it to completion, and still doesn’t let Negan look.

She makes sure to cover all the mirrors in her room before they go in to coordinate his outfit for tomorrow and do some try ons

“ _What do you go through when you get dressed in the morning?” Lucille asks,_ looking at his hair more than she does him, _“What’s the process?”_

_Negan purses his lips as he thinks, “Um… grab whatever fucking shirt is clean and the least wrinkled.. and put on the pants I was wearing yesterday ‘cause they’re still pretty clean.”_

_“What?” Lucille says, baffled, “You don’t plan what you wear? You don’t lay your clothes out at night so you’re ready in the morning? You don’t think of outfit ideas in your head and then put them together so- …Oh god is that just me?”_

_Negan shrugs, “I mean, sometimes I’m like shit I didn’t do laundry… guess I’ll have to wear that semi clean shirt in the dirty clothes hamper, but.. other than that, no.”_

_Lucille sighs out her stressors, “Well, now that you’ve got a new style, and some new clothes, you’re gonna have to start doing that. Fashion is expression, Negan. Don’t be afraid to show yourself through your clothes.”_

With that, she lays out the freshly washed clothes onto her bed, letting Negan in on her opinions as to what matches as what would look good together, but ultimately letting Negan decide what he wants to wear despite her two cents.

 _Oversized striped t shirts of all sorts of earthy colors, soft worn army boots of dark leather, Negan’s old vans, an array of stupid trucker hats, funny looking oversized beanies, dickies work pants-_ there’s so much to choose from, Negan doesn’t know where to start.

Everything laid out before him is something he likes, but he’s not so sure he has the security yet to wear them.

In the end, his first outfit ever chooses with thought is an oversized white t-shirt (for familiarity), _baggy black dickies_ (because he’s seen Dwight where them while he skates and Negan thinks they look cool) _cuffed at the hems to border his_ already owned _black crew socks, and his old slip on checkered vans that he never wore because they reminded him of being thirteen and wanting to be emo._

Lucille says they’re back in now, though, so he trusts her.

Negan slips on the outfit without looking in a mirror as Lucille asks, “Would you be open to wearing makeup?”

“What kind of makeup?” Negan ponders aloud, wary.

“Some eyeliner,” Lucille says, studying his face with a pensive tilt of the head, “Maybe a little lipstick.”

“Lipstick?” Negan questions, and for a moment Lucille thinks she’s going to be told no, until he says, “I’m down, what color?”

Then she grins again, rushing to her vanity and pulling out an entire drawers worth of lipstick, “I think something pink would look good on you, but like… a warm pink, you know?”

“Actually…. I don’t know.”

“... let me help.”

Lucille sits Negan in the edge of the bed, lining and smudging his eyes quickly and haphazardly with a greasy black kohl before honing in on his lips, rummaging through her stash for the perfect shade.

When she’s done, she leads him over to her covered vanity, giddy with excitement so much so that she trembles as she says, “You ready to see??”

Negan grins because her mood is infectious.

“Lucy, I was fucking _born_ ready.”

Lucille giggles, scurrying to tug away at the sheet that veils her light up mirror.

He second it falls away, and Negan is left to look at his reflection, he can barely recognize his own face.

“I’m blond!” Negan yells, looking over at Lucille with a dropped jaw, “I’m fucking blond!”

Lucille’s folded hands are to her mouth, containing her excitement caused by Negan’s reaction and his gleaming eyes, “Do you like it??” She asks, but she thinks she already knows.

“Fuck yeah, I love it, dude, oh my _God!_ ” He smacks his lips together in the mirror, tilting his head to get all the angles, “This lipstick is pink as _fuck_ , holy shit… God, I fucking love it, I fucking love _you_!” He says, pulling her into a hug.

“The outfit could use some work,” Lucille says when she’s back in her own space, getting a full look at him, “You look a little bit like my ex, but hey she had great street style.”

“Do I look fuckable?”

Lucille gives a slow nod, “Hell yeah… You went from Bart Simpson to Gay Sid Vicious skater boy with a heart of gold,” she shakes her head proudly, “God, I did good.”

Negan’s in the middle of admiring himself when the two of them hear the doorbell ring.

Lucille’s brows furrow with fright, “Who the fuck is that?”

“Shit, Maybe that’s Glenn with the pizza we ordered… let me just go ahead and fuck him real quick so we don’t have to pay..”

“Shut up, you idiot,” Lucille says, handing Negan some pizza money, “Everyone in book club is getting real tired of your sex jokes towards Glenn… especially Glenn.”

Negan snorts out a laugh and heads to the front door.

He’s expecting a Korean pizza boy with a dreadful look on his face, but what he gets is a blue eyed Rick looking at him with shock and terror.

He fish mouths and chokes on his words, until finally he sputters out, “What did you do to your hair?!?” With a lilt of disappointment, reaching out to run a hand around the sand colored locks. Rick actually frowns as he says, “I liked it black..”

Negan deflates, immediately losing that post makeover reveal confidence, “Well.. good thing I didn’t do it for you,” he says with a crooked face, because he really did do it to impress Rick, deep down, “I did it for me,” he adds sheepishly.

“Your hair’s fried,” Rick says, still with that tone.

“Stop touching it!” Negan pouts, swatting Rick’s and away and nervously fixing his hair.

“And your lipstick.”

Negan crosses his arms defensively over his chest, “What? I like it.”

“I know that pink,” he says, eyes glued to Negan's mouth, “Funky Fuschia.”

Negan’s arms fall, and that look on his face, like he’s both sad and happy, makes Negan want to swaddle him up in a hug.

“Rick..” he tries, but the boy silences him.

“I like it, too,” Rick says, still staring hopelessly at Negans lips, “You look good in it.”

Then he leans in and smashes their lips together, smearing the color between both their mouths.

Negan thinks Rick’s kissing him because he thinks Negan looks beautiful, because he wants to reassure him of that.

But really, Rick just wants some of that color on his own lips; just wants to feel fuschia.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i imagine negans hair to look like blond john frusciante circa 1990 but less patchy n i imagine him to dress like shane from banes world.... just in case u wanted reference.  
> thank u all for reading!! i hope you enjoyed and as always, feedback and constructive criticism are more than welcome <33333


	17. Navy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> songmood for this chapter (and for the whole jesus scenario in general) is green eyes by Erykah Badu aka the ten minute epic tale of song I would wake up out of a coma for so i could listen to it and cry  
> ALSO rlly sorry if theres like some bad typos, i proofread this at 3am watching sex and the city

Rick’s been sleeping over at his Aunt’s apartment lot more often now.

Negan worries as to why.

~

“Saw you on the couch,” Jesus says.

It's the first thing he’s said to Rick and they’ve been driving aimlessly around town for ten minutes.

Rick stiffens. His shoulders are scrunched up tight and he doesn’t even know it.

“The… wait, what?”

Jesus’ grip tightens on the steering wheel, and Rick watches, confused, as his jaw begins to clench, as his face pulls up with an angered snarl and he pulls onto the side of the road.

“With  _ Negan _ ,” He spits, “I saw you making out with Negan at that fucking party. Everyone did.”

Rick flushes.

He barely remembers, but he wouldn’t doubt that it's true.

Surprisingly enough, he’s not scared, not for the reason that you’d think. He’s more scared of Jesus right now- but that fear, it intrigues him. This is the most emotion he’s ever seen from the guy.

He’s not panicking either, even though he knows how many people from school must’ve witnessed his less than heterosexual scene with Negan.

Frankly, he’s more embarrassed that it was with Negan, because people were probably expecting that and didn’t even bat an eye.

“Cry me a goddamn river,” Rick mutters, rolling his eyes, “I saw  _ you _ going upstairs with- with whoever that fucking was… and Right after you  _ kissed _ me, too!”

Jesus scoffs, “It was just a fucking kiss, not some certificate to be wed, or whatever you thought it was.”

Rick blows up.

“Do you know how long I’ve been waiting for that kiss?? How long I’ve been fucking thinking about it?” Rick asks, turning to glare a hole into the side of Jesus’ bearded face, “I  _ like _ you. I fucking like you and you never text me back, you never give me the time of day, you never reciprocate  _ anything _ and you think you have the right to be pissed at me for just wanting the attention that you never give to me-”

Before he can finish, Jesus is pushing himself against Rick, crushing their lips together in a bruising kiss and clutching onto the nape of Rick’s neck with a vice grip so hard it stings.

Rick lets him slip into his mouth, because finally, here it is.

This is what he’s wanted.

~

Negan thinks something happened between Rick and Jesus that night he was over at Lucille’s, getting his hair bleached.

Rick hardly kisses him now.

No more make out sessions before school or after track practice; anytime Negan tries to initiate one, Rick is very tight lipped and he pulls away after a peck or two.

They only kiss when they’re in the middle of having sex, and even then, it's always Negan that leans in first and it's always over before it even started.

“Kiss me,” Negan breathes out, looking up at the boy in his lap as he fucks rockily up into him, grazing the planes of his hard and sweaty back.

Rick leans in, planting a quick peck on Negan’s unready lips, and Negan grows irritated.

“Kiss me again,” he says, “ _ Really _ kiss me.”

Negan wants it so bad, wants that old drag and rhythm of tongues together, that messy kind of kissing where you use your whole face, where you swallow down moans or your moans get swallowed.

Rick groans out, pretending he hasn’t heard Negan.

“Kiss me, Blue,  _ please?” _

“I- I don’t want to,” Rick says, somewhere between a whine and a body wracking moan- and there it is.

Negan’s thrusts weaken, until they come to a withering stop.

Even then, Rick keeps bouncing up and down his cock, the loud slaps of skin against skin filling the air as he chases his orgasm with eager conviction, “Just fuck me. You know how to do that, right?”

Negan blinks, looking up at the ceiling past Rick’s sweaty face, feeling deathly uninterested despite the stable hardness of his cock that doesn’t match his mind.

Negan doesn’t give Rick an answer.

He just lets the boy fuck himself on his cock like he’s some toy, until Rick’s coming all over Negan's chest and falling beside him on the floor of the treehouse, breathing out rugged breaths that make Negan’s blond strands sway like palm trees dancing in the breezy winds.

Right now, Negan feels like a Radiohead song; the kind of sad, sad songs that’s no doubt playing out of Rick’s headphones when Negan steals one out of Rick’s ear at any given time for a listen.

He feels like Fade into you by Mazzy Star.

_ I think it's strange you never knew. _

Negan’s only half hard now, but he still wants to cum, still wants to be close to Rick.

He just wishes the boy would kiss him like he used to. He could probably cum from just kissing Rick.

“You wanna fuck me?” Negan asks Rick, because Rick is not interested in kissing, “Do you wanna try that?”

When Rick nods yes, he feels that sense of validity he so craves on the daily, especially from Rick.

Rick grabs the lube, lathers his practiced fingers and stretches Negan open like he’s done on occasion, coaxing the teen back to full hardness, using his mouth on Negan like Negan always does to him.

The way Negan writhes and moans and curses makes Rick feel all high and mighty, like maybe he does know what he’s doing when it comes down to things like this, like maybe he’s some experienced sex god and like maybe he’ll be good enough for Jesus if the two of them end up doing these things.

“Do you do this a lot?” Rick asks, rolling a condom onto his erection, feeble hands fumbling just a bit as he speaks.

“Do what?” Negan asks and his chest heaves, voice breathy as a result.

“Bottom…” Rick says.

Negan raises an eyebrow.

“Not usually,” He answers honestly, “I like to, though, but not a lot of the dudes I’ve been with have been the type that like to be on top. Or at least they think I’m the kind of guy that  _ only _ likes being on top… either fucking way, I like to give  _ and _ receive.”

“So when’s the last time you bottomed?”

“Oh, you don’t wanna know,” Negan smirks, as if he does this often.

He’s only bottomed once and that was when he was a Freshman, and the guy who topped him didn’t give a shit about Negan.

Rick rolls his eyes and swats at Negan’s hip.

Negan stares up at the boy, grinning now as he chuckles, tongue between teeth.

Rick notices that sometimes Negan looks at him with the starriest eyes Rick has ever seen in his life.

He’s not sure what to make of that- sometimes it makes him uncomfortable, that look.

Every once in a while the thought occurs to him that maybe he likes Negan enough to feel something that matches the glimmer in those starry eyes, or that maybe negan likes him. 

But that just sounds silly to him.

Sure, Sometimes rick looks over at negan and he sees his face and he’s so beautiful. But that’s it. He’s just good looking, and he’s a good friend. That’s all he can feel right now. Everything else is too complicated to sort out

Like how he feels safe in Negan’s arms, or how sometimes he likes to look at Negan and just stare, or how he likes to feel the solid warmth of Negan’s hand against his own sometimes. 

Those are just things. It can’t mean much- especially not during sex.

Surely it can’t mean that much to Negan when he’s done this all so many times before.

And if it does mean something to him, Rick’s not sure what he would do, he’s not sure what it would do to their friendship.

But he thinks maybe it could ruin it.

“Tell me if I’m doing it right,” Rick says, shaking his thoughts away.

“Well, you gotta put it in my ass first before I can make up my mind.”

Rick rolls his eyes and shakes his head, but in the blink of an eye he’s in another character- one heady with lust and high with this odd power he knows he holds over Negan.

“You want me to put it in?” Rick says lowly, leaning into Negan and purring right into his ear, “You want my cock, now don’t you? Want me to fuck you real good?”

His voice sends shivers down Negan’s spine, “Jesus Christ, Rick, you’re talking like you’ve done this before,” his smirk returns, and he puts his own mouth to Rick’s ear, whispering, “I like it, baby… I like it a lot.”

“Course you do,” Rick murmurs, and then Negan is spreading his legs wide, a quiet invitation.

Rick slips inside of him so slowly, and Negan hisses in delight, hips twitching and grinding already against the heaviness inside of him, making Rick spill out all these noises Negan’s never heard.

“You’re  _ tight _ ,” Rick sighs, “You’re so fucking tight,” he repeats, and he’s fucking into Negan so fast and so thoroughly, clutching roughly at Negan’s hip and brushing up against his spot like it’s nothing.

Negan wants him to go slow, wants this to slow down.

He wants Rick to look him in his eyes and fuck him slow.

So he tells him, in so many words.

“Pace yourself,” Negan says, sounding like he’s one to talk, “Don’t wanna cum in less than five minutes when you’re fucking someone… I had to learn that the hard way.”

Rick laughs at that, but his hips stutter.

“It-it’s just so hard to go slow when it feels.. so good.”

“I know,” Negan says, almost cooing, and grabbing at the boy’s arm to pull him down towards him, chest against chest, Rick’s face buried in his neck.

“What are you doing?” Rick asks, attempting to get up, but Negan is hugging him hostage, relishing in the feeling of his warm skin flush against Rick’s.

“Harder to fuck fast in this position,” he states simply, trailing kisses down the soft dip where Rick’s neck and shoulder meet, and quietly wishing Rick would do the same to him.

Rick is fucking him, Rick was riding his dick just a moment ago and fulfilling all of Negan’s sexual fantasies that had manifested themselves in his brain earlier this school year, but somehow all Negan wants is for Rick to kiss him.

-

Everyone starts staring at Rick and Negan when they walk down the halls now. 

So much so that Rick has begun to put an immeasurable amount of space between them when they coast down the halls.

Negan’s heart just about snaps in half when he leans in to wrap an arm around Rick’s shoulders, like he always does, and the boy just shrugs it off in less than a second.

Lucille sees it and feels an immense amount of pity gurgling in her gut at the kicked puppy look on Negan’s face, that she has to throw an arm around the boy’s waist to compensate for Rick’s doings.

Negan leans into her easily.

Just a few days after the party, the stares become accompanied by whispers, and that’s when Rick stops walking with Negan altogether.

Negan thinks maybe it's because of what they did at the party, that maybe he’s embarrassed that everyone knows now that he’s gay.

But after seeing Rick walk to first period underneath Jesus’ arm for a week straight, he thinks it's not so much that he’s embarrassed of being gay, but embarrassed of being gay with Negan.

Negan’s become so used to Rick walking him everywhere- he’s been doing it since November- that now he feels a little lonely when he has to walk by himself.

It makes him feel like that dorky little fat kid he used to be. 

That he  _ is _ .

Like Simon said, that person never left, and he was never forgotten.

Negan had the most fun when he was that dorky little fat kid, had the greatest friend and the greatest laughs.

Maybe this blond headed, eyeliner wearing, skater boy is fat Negan reincarnated- not in looks, but in spirit, and without the desire to change.

People stare at him- with or without Rick- but it's starting to tear through Negan’s skin less and less.

They don’t stare at him for the same reasons as before anyways, they just stare at him because they all wonder the same thing.

One fateful Friday in bookclub, Lucille says.

“Alright, any questions?” And of course she’s talking about the book they’re reading, but Tara with her pigtails and her flannel and her curious doe eyes raises her hand and immediately looks at Rick and Negan as she says, “Uh, yeah, Hi- are you two like, together??”

“No!” Rick says immediately, spacing himself from where he was practically sitting on Negan’s lap.

He says it so quickly Negan feels embarrassed, but he doesn’t want to say no, so he doesn’t answer at all.

Glenn, who sort of asked Negan the same question months earlier, gazes at Rick and Negan with that same curious intent.

He catches Negan’s lowly eyes and throws him an apologetic glance.

“We’re not- we’re  _ not _ dating!” Rick defends, “I was  _ drunk _ , okay?”

Negan’s jaw tightens, because Rick makes it sound like the last thing he’d want to do with Negan is make out with him.

Frankly, he doesn’t remember much of the couch incident at the party- Hell, he doesn’t remember much of the actual party to begin with- but what about all those other times they made out?

All the other times they touched each other’s dicks or fucked each other?

Did Rick really want that? Or did he just want the experience?

Did he just put up with Negan being the one touching him so he could get a few notches in his belt?

“So… you’re with Jesus then?” Rosita speaks up, quirking a confused eyebrow.

Rick opens his mouth to speak, but closes it.

Negan sits on the edge of his seat waiting for an answer.

“Any questions about  _ the book _ ?” Lucille asks pointedly, interrupting, mostly sparing Negan from the inevitable truth.

Everyone shakes their head no, and then the meeting is dismissed.

Lucille leaves to go organize the groups books from last month, and as everyone wanes out, Negan and Rick are left on the loveseat- a gap between them still.

Rick is on his phone, texting.

Negan’s trying to discreetly read who it’s from but the prescription of his contacts is getting pretty old and he has to squint like a bitch to make a word out, so he decides he better mind his own business.

“Wanna go to the new Taco Bell they just built by Target?” Negan asks suddenly, “The machine they use to make the freezes is brand spankin’ new and it makes the Baja blast taste like liquid fuckin’ snow.”

“So… like water?” Rick says with a laugh, finally looking up from his phone.

Negan chuckles at himself, “So do you wanna fuckin’ go or not?”

Rick’s soft smile falters.

“I can’t,” he says, and Negan frowns, “I’m gonna go to the movies with Jesus.”

“Oh…” Negan says, voice clipped, “What movie are you gonna watch?”

Negan tries to subdue his jealousy, but he’s not sure if it works.

“The gay one… came out a few weeks ago.”

“Love Simon??” Negan says, and when Rick nods, he scoffs, “Real fuckin’ slick, that guy.. Two cute white gays going on a date to see a movie about a white gay- real prize moment, huh?”

Rick shrugs, “I think it’s cute.”

Negan sighs frustratedly, “Rick, I don’t know how to say this nicely, but he’s just trying to fucking sleep with you!”

“Like you were?” Rick asks without missing a beat, unfazed.

Negan loses his heat, becomes a burnt out lump of coal.

“You know that’s not the same..”

“Why isn’t that the same? Because we were best friends or because you’re already fucking me?”

“You know why,” Negan says, but it's only him who knows. 

Rick doesn’t.

“You’re fucking me, too…”

Rick shakes his head, like Negan’s being difficult- and shit, maybe he is.

“I gotta go,” Rick says, punctuated with the sound of him locking his phone after just looking at it, “Jesus is waiting for me.”

Negan watches Rick leave past the glass doors of the library, watches him keep his head forward and straight, not sparing a glance back.

Lucille returns from the storage room to see Negan alone on the loveseat, staring blankly ahead at nothing.

“Where did Rick go?” She asks.

Negan stays quiet for a second, then answers, “Uh, nowhere… Hey, do you wanna go watch a movie?”

“Right now?”

“Yeah, right now?”

“There’s nothing good out.”

“Why don’t we go watch Love Simon?”

“I’ve already seen it!” Lucille says, “it’s been out for like three weeks.”

“Well I’ve never seen it!” Negan argues, “So let’s fucking go.”

Lucille eyes him with suspicion, her gaze seeping under his skin.

“C’mon, please!” He persists

“This doesn’t have to do anything with Rick, does it?”

“ _ Pffft _ ! Of course not!”

-

It has  _ everything  _ do with Rick, Lucille finds out, when they enter the theater and Rick and Jesus are the only other people there besides them.

She figures something was up when Negan forced her into getting balcony seats.

“You idiot!” Lucille hisses in a hush, almost dropping her slushee and making Negan spill some popcorn onto the floor as she gives him a shove, “Why are you trying to ruin this for him? Why can’t you just leave him alone?!”

Negan huffs out a breath, shoves himself down in his seat.

“You don’t know how Jesus is,” Negan says to her, “You never hear the locker room talk- I do, and I don’t like the idea of him around my… around Rick…”

Negan knows how Jesus works. He knows they’re not together  _ yet _ . That Jesus hasn’t sealed the deal but still sees Rick as his own personal possession.

Lucille sighs, taking a long sip of her drink before she settles next to him and says, “I guess I don’t.”

By the time the lights fall and the previews start playing, Negan looks down and sees Jesus has already pulled the classic  _ yawn, stretch, then arm around the shoulder _ move, and Negan hates that he can see Rick melt into it.

Negan scowls, shoves a hand into his bucket of popcorn so he can shovel some into his mouth and pulverize it with the chomp of his angry, angry jaw.

“Watch the movie,” Lucille says out of pity as she watches the boy shrink in the corner of her eye.

Negan can’t exactly follow her order: he can only watch for maybe five minutes at a time before his eyes leave back to Rick.

He finds Rick and Jesus can’t be bothered to watch for long either.

Against the light of the giant movie screen and all the fleeting colors, Negan sees their shadows, facing each other, turning to say things to talk to one another and spare looks and nods.

Negan wonders what they’re saying.

Rick laughs a lot- or at least Negan sees his head being thrown back in laughter.

“Fucking Christ, why is he laughing so loud? Jesus has the fucking personality of a piece of plywood sprayed with Gucci Guilty, he couldn’t have said something  _ that _ funny…”

“I agree,” Lucille says around three sour belts at once, nodding studiously, “Rick’s totally being too obvious… and Jesus is just too blasé.. What is he? A Gemini? I’m gonna guess Gemini- and Rick?”

“Virgo,” Negan answers.

“Gemini and Virgo,” Lucille says thoughtfully, “Not gonna work. Never gonna work,  _ terrible  _ mix; earth sign with an air sign? That’s a fucking dust bowl for you.”

“You’re just saying that to make me less fuckin’ miserable, aren’t you?”

“...Maybe,” Lucille says, immediately slurping up the last of her slushee to create some noise, “Jesus is totally a Pisces…”

Negan rolls his eyes and averts his attention back to the screen for approximately all of ten seconds before his eyes are back on Rick.

Only he can’t make out Rick’s own single form, because it’s coupled with Jesus’, and Negan finally

gets a clue when he sees the tiny sliver of light between their mouths- the tiny gap that bridges closed just a second later when their mouths meet again.

Just as soon as his brain can half comprehend what’s going on, Negan is on his feet, ready to get down to floor level and drag Jesus off of Rick.

(Even though its Rick who’s all over Jesus.)

“ _ Stop _ ,” Lucille says, tone controlled and careful as she clutches at Negan’s wrist, “Whatever you’re thinking about doing right now, you’re gonna regret it later, I promise you.”

Negan stays tense in her grip for a moment more before he lets out a defeated breath, nodding softly.

He spares one last look at Rick, at Jesus in Rick’s space, and then says, “I think I wanna go home.”

Lucille nods softly, and follows him as he heads out the theater doors.

“Fuck this fucking stupid ass movie theater, man,” Negan says as he buckles up in the passenger's seat with a little too much attitude, “That was the worst movie ever… the popcorn was too salty and it made me fucking thirsty as fuck… then I didn’t have enough money to buy my own slushee and you chugged your shit down like it was Respect Women juice and- and I fucking hate this place, man, with their expensive ass prices.. Three dollars for a small, I mean, what the- what the fuck is- is that bullshit?”

Negan hiccups on that last line, suddenly breaking into a fit of tears, skipping out on a few wholesome tears and going straight into chest wracking sobs.

Briefly, Lucille watches with amazement.

She didn’t think Rick had this much of an effect on him.

Christ, didn’t Negan just want to sleep with him and be done with it? If Rick doesn’t want to sleep with him that bad, surely Negan could take the hint and move the fuck on. She’s seen it happen even with Negan’s hottest pursuits.

Silently, a thought comes to mind, and she thinks that if it's true, this might be the worst thing Negan has ever done to himself.

She places a hand on Negan’s back, rubs small and careful circles to soothe him into only weak streams of tears as she sits there in dread.

“When you and Rick made out on that couch at the party last week,” she begins warily, “that was the first time that’s ever happened, right?”

Negan lets out a few weak whimpers.

“No,” he croaks guiltily, and he musters up the courage to look Lucille in the eyes as he says, “We’re fucking,” but as soon as it’s out he’s sobbing again, “I let him fuck me,” Negan cries, voice hitching with sobs, “and it feels so fucking good but it's not how I want it to be,” he continues, “I eat- I eat his ass almost every single day-  _ every. single. day.-  _  and, and seeing him doing  _ that _ with Jesus with my own fucking eyes is just- it’s just-”

Another wave of tears makes Negan’s breath hitch, and Lucille’s heart breaks as she watches her friend crumble before her, curling in on himself and crying into his shaky hands.

_ “I regret  _ saying all those things I said about him to you,” Negan sniffles, wiping his nose with the back of his hand, “About just wanting to… to fuck him, and just seeing him as a piece of ass. I regret it so much.”

“I knew you would…” Lucille says gently, and Negan glares at her, to which she says defensively, “you don’t just hit and quit a boy you have a special nickname for.”

Negan shrugs his head to the side as if tonsay touché.

“He won’t even kiss me anymore,” Negan continues weakly, when the worst of his episode has subsided, “He stopped kissing me like he used to and now he just wants to fuck and be done with it, and now I fucking know why.”

Lucille frowns, hand still moving carefully against Negan’s back, “Negan,” she begins softly, “You can’t keep doing this with him. It's obvious that he’s just using you- and he thinks you know that.”

“Don’t say that… Don’t say that he’s  _ using _ me,” Negan whimpers, closing his eyes to will away a fresh set of tears, “ _ please _ don’t fucking say that.”

“I’m sorry,” Lucile says, truly apologetic, “But you can’t do this to yourself, Negan. To  _ Rick. _ Cause I’m sure it’ll effect him somehow, too.”

Negan shakes his head, “I can’t,” he says, “I can’t stop. It’s the only way I can be close to him. It's the only way he fucking needs me.. I can’t stop.”

“That’s not the only way he needs you,” Lucille assures him, “You’re his friend.”

“I wanna be his… his boyfriend.”

“You have to tell him.”

“I can’t,” Negan says weakly, “I can’t.”

“Yes, you can,” Lucille says, “You said you don’t like Jesus- Well, keep him away from Rick and  _ tell him.” _

“Tell him  _ what?  _ Rick fucking likes that bitch, he won’t believe anything I say, he’s so far up his skinny ass!”

“Tell him  _ you _ made the fucking flower pot! That  _ you  _ put all that shit in his locker! Tell him you fucking like him before shit just gets worse!”

“And if he doesn’t like me back?”

“Well at least he knows Jesus is a fucking conniving ass liar, and he breaks shit off with him.”

Negan rolls the possibilities around in his head, finds scenarios that could induce nightmares and episodes of anxiety.

“I can’t do it,” he repeats.

And before Lucille can repeat her question of  _ why not? _ Negan says, “I’m fucking in love with him.”

-

‘ _ R u sleeping here?’  _ Negan texts Rick as he lies in his bed, staring up at the ceiling and spreading a hand out to Rick’s side of the mattress.

_ ‘No,’  _ is all Rick responds with.

_ ‘Where r u?’  _ Negan sends, and when Rick doesn’t answer after five minutes, he adds, ‘I  _ don’t care where u are I just wanna make sure you’re okay.’ _

_ ‘I’m fine,’ Rick says, and then immediately after, as if he can’t wait to wrap up their conversation, he sends, ‘goodnight Negan.’ _

_ ‘Goodnight blu,’ Negan sends with a sigh. _

His brain conjures up images of Rick cuddled up in Jesus’ chest, falling asleep there, wearing Jesus’ clothes and sleeping in Jesus’ bed.

Images of Rick and Jesus parked somewhere discreet and making out, Rick in his lap as the boys hands venture beneath the waistband of Jesus’ tight jeans, so devilish and so trained after all the times he’s done so with Negan.

Images of Rick being driven home by Jesus, the former sitting in the middle seat of Jesus’ truck and drifting to sleep softly on his shoulder, feeling safe enough to do that as the sky shifts from a dusky blue to a rich navy.

Rick’s done that with Negan, so many times. 

Now he’s gonna do it all with Jesus, and Negan feels sick to his stomach because Jesus doesn’t fucking deserve a speck of it.

He doesn’t deserve a speck of Rick’s time or attention.

Conviction and fire finding it’s way through Negan's veins, he picks his phone up off of the nightstand.

He calls Lucille.

“I’m gonna tell him,” he says, the second she picks up.

“Wait, what are you-”

Negan smiles, suddenly feeling giddy, feeling good about his plans.

“I’m gonna ask him to prom.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PROMPOSAL ANYONE???  
> thank u all for reading and I hope u enjoyed! feedback and constructive criticism are more than welcome!!! love u guys


	18. Red-Violet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> flaming hot cheetos by clairo for that sad shit

Rick and Negan are the only Seniors in the Sophomore child development class.

That’s what happens when you have enough credits to almost have a half-day schedule but not quite- your counselor puts you in random ass classes.

Most of the time this class is pretty boring, just because it's one of those easy classes where all you do is book work and write down vocabulary words, but everyone is excited about their next project, just because it's so typical and cliche, like something you’d see in those movies about high school.

Everyone’s being partnered up and assigned babies- and no, not sacks of flour with fabric diapers or whatever- but actual _rubber_ babies that shit and piss and cry and have multiple changes of clothes.

Negan is eighteen years old, hasn’t applied to a single college yet, hasn’t even tried on his graduation gown that came in the mail the other day.

That being said, he doesn’t even know the first step to take for the beginning of the rest of his life; therefore, he has no reason to be daydreaming about having and raising actual kids, but when he hears his teacher call out the words, “Rick, Negan, come collect your child,” something inside of him flickers and waves like the warm wick of a candle.

Negan is out of his seat in a flash and Rick follows shortly behind, and though he’s not as eager, he’s still pretty excited.

He’s handed a rubber baby swaddled in pink, and he cradles it in his arms, looking down at the fake plastic eyes that are the same shade of blue as Rick’s, though way more artificial.

“Look, Rick,” Negan smirks, walking slowly back to his seat, his partner by his side, “She has your eyes.”

Rick’s small smile fades, replaced with a funny look of annoyance.

“God, isn’t she fucking lovely?” Negan says, awed, ignoring Rick’s glare as he takes his seat once again, catching himself in a tune as he starts singing, “Isn’t she lovely? Isn’t she wonderful? Isn’t she precious? Only one minute old. I never thought through love we’d be!-”

Rick stops him when his voice cracks for the third time, cringing hard.

“Negan,” he says, a hand on the boy’s shoulder, “She’s plastic..”

Negan laughs, “Hey, fuck you! Is that anything to call our newborn daughter, Ricky?”

Rick rolls his eyes, but he smiles.

Negan smiles back, because nowadays, smiles mean a lot between them.

“So.. what are we gonna name her?” Negan asks, and he tries not to sound so serious, or as curiously interested as he so truly is.

Rick shrugs, noncommittal, “I don’t know. You can name her if you want, I didn’t exactly plan on doing that.”

“Oh..” Negan says, and if he sounds hurt that Rick isn’t as into their baby as him, that’s because he is.

He looks down at their child, and her tiny little mouth that is slightly parted so exaggeratedly, and begins to brainstorm.

Then a crooked smile shapes his face, almost a smirk, it’s so mischievous.

“Lucille,” he says, “I’m naming our baby girl Lucille… Lucille Jr.”

Rick snorts, “I don’t think Lucille Sr. isn’t gonna like that.”

“Yeah, well she’s gonna fuckin’ have to if she plans on being gay fairy godmother.”

Negan removes the pink beanie from his daughter’s head, sees a mound of yellow blonde plastic meant to be hair.

“Oh god,” Negan says, feigning the croak of tears, pressing his lips together with emotion shortly before he breathes out, “Just like her Father…”

“Shut up,” Rick says jokingly, as a fond smile betrays him.

Negan chuckles, holding the baby out to Rick as Rick inches away.

“Kiss her, Rick!” Negan taunts as Rick moves away, “Kiss our baby girl!”

“No!” Rick laughs.

“Kiss little Lucy Jr, Rick! She wants a kiss from her Daddy!”

“Stop calling her Lucy, that’s weird!”

Suddenly, amidst their shenanigans, Little Lucy begins to cry, a shrieking electronic cry that startles them both.

“See what you did?” Negan says protectively, getting up out of his seat for no reason but to rock and cradle their baby, “All because you wouldn’t give her a little kissy wissy.”

Rick rolls his eyes, “Actually, I think it's because little Lucy wucy shat herself.”

“What?”

Rick points towards the rubber dolls now unswaddled behind, and Negan looks down to see an unmistakable brown stain.

“Damn… this thing really shits, huh?” Negan marvels, slightly disgusted, before he looks up at Rick.

“Help me change her?”

-

“That bitch looks nothing like me…”

Lucille sits in the passengers seat, eyeing the placid face of the rubber doll with utter disgust.

Negan sighs for the umpteenth time, “For fuck’s fucking sake, I just need you to hold her while I drive!”

“Fine…” Lucille whines, giving in and grabbing the baby with two hands, holding it away from her.

“Hold her like a god damn human being,” Negan complains, “You’re gonna make her cry! She can feel your fucked up energy, you know that?”

Lucille sighs, bringing the doll to sit in her lap, “I don’t like dolls,” she frowns.

Negan rolls his eyes, keeping his attention on the road.

Lucille fidgets with the fisted baby hands, eyeing them with a wicked curiosity, vaguely disturbed.

“So…” she begins, asking though she already knows, “Who’s the baby daddy? … or should I say, _where’s_ the baby daddy?”

“Track practice,” Negan answers, “He should be back by six,” he says, dreading to add, “Jesus Is dropping him off.”

Lucille give him a shrug of a smile, pity engrained in her lips.

“Good luck…” is all she says.

-

Rick is back at Negan’s house at one in the morning.

Frankly, Negan’s pissed.

He’s been with their daughter this whole time, feeding her, changing her diaper and her clothes, and cleaning up her fake shit and piss _without_ help from the grandparents- and where has Rick been? He’s been fucking around with Jesus… hopefully not literally.

Rick walks in smiling at the floor, until he looks up and sees Negan standing in the doorway, baby on his shoulder and a hard look on his face, all gritted teeth and clenched jaw.

Then Rick’s smile disappears, and he looks very much the guilty cheating husband.

“You’re taking night watch, motherfucker,” Negan says, and because he whispers it, it only sounds half as angered as he really is.

Negan is so angry he could cry.

“And you’re sleeping on the couch tonight,” he adds.

In a normal tone, too loud for a sleeping baby, Rick says, indignant, “The couch?? Why?”

“ _Shhh!!_ ” Negan shushes, and it’s louder than Rick was in the first place, but Negan thinks he’s earned the right to be loud.

Rick shakes his head, sighing, “I’m not sleeping on the couch.”

“ _Yes_ , you are.”

“ _No,_ I’m not.”

“ _Yes, you are!”_ Negan hisses, “You’ve been out all fucking night fartin’ around with that douche bag,  and I’ve been here with _our_ babygirl! Our pissing, shitting, crying, screaming babygirl!”

“It’s just a damn doll, Negan!”

Negan’s hostile mouth purses shut, and he grits his jaw once again, not bothering to say or do anything but look Rick dead in the eye, expression unreadable.

The moment is silent, but for some reason, Lucy chooses now to startle awake with a cry.

Negan scrunches his eyes closed, that shrieking cry instantly triggering stress and panic like it has been all afternoon and night.

Finally, Negan walks up to Rick, swiftly handing him the baby and turning into the hall that leads to his room as he says, “I’m going to sleep,” and nothing more.

He shuts the door behind him, stripping down to his boxers and climbing into his bed, where his guarded face finally breaks into a frown that dissolves him into tears.

Negan knows it's ridiculous to be crying over this, over Rick not taking their rubber baby seriously, but he’s just so stressed and so frustrated, and knowing that Rick was with Jesus really doesn’t help at all.

In all honestly, Negan actually liked the time he spent with the baby. Sure the thing crapped a lot, and it’s rubber so it showed no true emotion, but Negan enjoyed it.

He began to imagine doing this for a living, being a stay at home Dad and raising actual children of his own with real personalities and real live faces and future's so full of potential and wonder, and being that solid, stable figure in someone’s life.

Besides basketball, Negan’s never had a clue of what he wanted to do with his life, but holding and caring for that fake baby gave him an idea: he wants to be a parent one day, wants to be that loving husband that someone looks forward to coming home to.

And maybe in his head that someone coming home to him was Rick. He couldn’t help if it was… blame his imagination.

And maybe having Rick coming home hours later than he said he would, and calling their doll baby _just a damn doll_ really shat on his heart.

Maybe.

As Negan is sniffling the last of his woes out, he hears the slight squeak of the door opening, sees the stream of light flooding in carefully, followed by Rick’s sheepish silhouette.

Negan says nothing to acknowledge his presence, not even as Rick strips himself of his clothes and slips in behind him.

Rick is so close Negan can feel his warmth coming off in waves, but he’s not touching Negan, not saying anything either, like he’s afraid he might be sentenced away.

But Negan doesn’t want to send Rick away. He didn’t want him on the couch in the first place, he was just upset.

“Where’s the baby?” Negan asks, and his voice splits the thick silence between them.

“She’s sleeping,” Rick answers.

Negan goes quiet again.

“I’m sorry, Negan.”

“Leave me alone.”

Rick lays a hand on Negan’s side, “I mean it. I’m sorry.”

“Stop it.”

_I know you think I’m pathetic. Stop making fun of me._

Rick can hear that.

He presses a kiss to the nape of Negan’s neck, hears the all too pent up gasp, feels the body wracking shudder Negan lets out.

Then his body goes lax.

“I mean it,” Rick repeats, kissing from shoulder to shoulder, “I’m so sorry.”

Negan whimpers, because the press of Rick’s lips against his skin feels so good he almost thinks he’s in a dream, that it isn’t real.

And why is he doing this now? He hasn’t shown Negan affection like this in weeks.

“Do you believe me?” Rick asks, kissing up Negan’s neck, feeling the way his pulse quickens against his lips.

He wants Negan to say yes, wants Negan to know he would never mock him.

Negan takes in a shaky breath, but nods quickly, turning around to face Rick and fully absorb the boy’s space.

Rick hooks a leg over Negan’s hip, and Negan clutches a hand around his thigh, hitching it up higher as finally, _finally_ their lips meet in a rhythm lasting longer than half a beat.

Yes, Negan started it, but Rick doesn’t stop it, and he kisses back like he actually wants to kiss Negan.

And Rick does want to kiss him- it’s nice to kiss someone who doesn’t taste like cigarettes- but he also wants something more, something he’s too scared to do with Jesus, but more than comfortable enough with Negan.

Negan trails his kisses quickly down Rick’s chin, and by the time he’s at his chest, Rick pushes his head down further, saying, “Fuck me… please.”

Negan falters, lips fumbling on Rick’s skin.

He wonders if that’s all he’s good for when it comes to Rick. If Rick just sees him as a dick to fuck, as a good orgasm to take the edge off of all the dissatisfaction he gets from Jesus.

And is he actually sorry for what he said, or did he just say so because he wants sex?

Negan knows it’s most likely the latter, but he tells himself that right now, it’s not.

He looks up into Rick’s lust laden eyes and acknowledges that at least there is trust there.

That has to mean something.

Lust can turn in love, can’t it?

Rick turns Negan onto his back, and takes Negan from the top.

Negan touches as much of Rick as he can, kisses him as much as he can, slides his hands up and down his sides, and squeezes his ass, and ruffles his hair.

He’s going to tell Rick soon, and who knows what will happen when he does.

-

_Sometimes I feel like I just wanna go back to my old ways_

_You’re telling me I’m silly_

_It's no fun in the old days_

_Live in the moment, that’s what they tell me_

_But what ever happened_

_To when you would hold me?_

_And hold me_

_And hold me_

“Negan it's been three hours of you listening to this damn song… and it's only two minutes long,” Lucille complains, waking up from the nap she’d been taking beside the boy, “Can I just pick the fucking nap song and finally get some peaceful sleep?”

“Shut up,” Negan says, “This chick’s voice soothes the shit out of me, and I’m trying to fucking think.”

The girl grumbles and turns onto her belly, clutching the pillow Rick uses when he stays with Negan, “You are making me _hate_ this song,” she says pointedly.

Negan rolls his eyes, then smirks.

“You’re lying in the same spot Rick totally creamed himself riding my fucking dick last night.”

There's a quick creak of the bed as Lucille gets up, and then a sigh, “That’s it… I’m sleeping in the guest room.”

“Wait!” Negan says before she reaches a hand on his bedroom door.

“What?”

Negan sighs out, facade falling away.

“I don’t know how I should ask him,” he admits, “I’ve been coming up with scenarios in my head: shit I could buy and how much money I would need. I even googled Naruto _and_ Dragon Ball Z themed promposals, but now I don’t know. I wanna be real with this. I don’t wanna fucking hide anymore behind some anonymous note, and I want it to be as honest as possible. I started thinking maybe I could pop out of a box wearing some shorts that said ‘Prom?’ on my ass, and yes on one cheek and no on the other, because if I’m gonna humiliate myself, might as well do it right.. But then I thought maybe…that maybe being vulnerable doesn’t mean I have to humiliate myself, and now I just think I should ask him, face to face, in private,” Negan looks up at Lucille, practicing vulnerability by looking her in the eyes instead of staring up at the ceiling, “What do you think?”

She seems to be thinking it over, even as her earnest gaze remains mild and simple on Negan’s eyes.

“I think you should do whatever feels the most honest,” she agrees, nodding, “Face to face, private. That sounds good.”

Negan nods, and a rippling of butterflies rifles through his stomach.

“Yeah,” he says, working up enough nerve for a smile, “Thanks, Lucy.”

-

It was a good day, the day before Negan asked Rick to prom.

So good Negan almost asked him then, but as he held the boy to his chest, settling into bed to let sleep take them and bring them safely into the next day, he realized he didn’t want to risk their peace.

So he decided, tomorrow at school- and now it’s tomorrow.

And Negan is so nervous.

He tells himself he’ll ask when they’re at Rick’s locker, gathering his books, like a parallel to the first time Negan tried to confess his feelings- but then Rick skips his locker and goes to find Jesus out on the courtyard before the first bell rings.

So he tells himself he’ll ask at lunch when Rick goes to the vending machine to buy a bottle of water, but Rick is all out of change and so is Negan and so is Michonne and Glenn and Maggie.

Negan’s mind tells him that it's a sign, that he should cancel his plan, but Negan keeps on with his will.

He leaves his last period ten minutes early so he can run across buildings and meet Rick at his locker before Jesus gets to him first.

When he gets there though, he sees the long haired boy has already beat him to it, and there he stands, leaning over Rick and chatting him up, stealing kisses that should very well belong to Negan.

Negan sinks upon the sight, but he makes himself drown those discouraging feelings away and swallow them down.

He approaches Rick, pretending like Jesus isn’t there.

“Hey Rick,” Negan says, and the boy gets on his tiptoes to look over Jesus’ shoulder and acknowledge him, “Can I talk to you for a second… alone?”

Jesus looks over at Negan, giving him an unamused look, “He’s kind of busy right now,” he says, looking down at Rick and saying, “Right, baby?”

Negan’s eyes bore into Jesus’ like daggers, and he swallows down hard despitethe tightness in his throat.

Rick looks up at Jesus, then over at Negan.

“It’ll only take a minute,” he assures quietly.

Jesus stares down at Rick placidly, like he’s annoyed, and Negan wants to rip his eyes out of the sockets.

“Okay,” he says, too casual to be honest, and then he leans into Rick, melting their mouths together in a deep, deep kiss and grabbing Rick by the ass to pull him in closer.

When they separate, Rick is flustered and red, looking at Jesus with a shocked yet sheepish kind of arousal before he shakes it off and steps aside.

“See ya, baby,” Jesus calls, and it’s for Rick, but he looks at Negan while he says it, face lavished with a vindictive smirk.

Negan walks fast away from the scene, and Rick struggles to keep up, calling out, “Hey, Negan! Slow down!”

Negan didn’t know he’d been walking that fast.

When he looks up, he sees they’re just outside the science department, far from Jesus.

“What did you need to walk three miles outside the campus to tell me about, huh?”

Rick looks calm and glowing as he jokes around so carelessly, like he has not a worry in the world.

In the breeze, his curls sway, and the sun carefully grazes his eyes so that he squints slightly.

Negan has his brow furrowed in anxiety, his blond hair casting yellow lines into his sight.

He casts a glance over Rick and finds a hickey just peeking out of the hem of his t-shirt, a red-violet splotch on his collarbone that Negan knows he didn’t put there.

“Look…” Negan takes a deep breath, mustering up all the courage he has in store that isn’t shallow. He barely has any real bravery, but still he looks up into Rick’s eyes.

“I- I know you’re… I know you like Jesus, that you two have a thing going on, but- but _I_ like you, Rick. I like you so much, I- I think…” _I think I love you_ … _I know I do._

Negan shakes his head clear, “I just… I really really like you, okay, and… and I just wanna ask: will you go to Prom with me?”

Rick gawks up at Negan, eyes full of complete and utter dread like he’s in some nightmare.

Negan watches as the boy’s Adam’s apple skips up in his throat, every silent, breathless second making his heart drop to his knees- until he just can’t take it anymore.

“Rick?-”

Rick shakes his head quickly, “No,” he says, “No… no, I’m not gonna go to Prom with you- you.. you _can’t_ -”

“He doesn’t like you, Rick,” Negan pleads, leaning in closer to Rick and trying to grab his hands, looking weakly into his blue eyes, shaking his head, “Not like I do… not like you deserve.”

Rick takes a step back, moving away from Negan’s touch, trying desperately to shake Negan’s gaze off of him, “Shut up,” he says, “You don’t like me. You don’t like me and-and I don’t like you. _I_ like Jesus and Jesus likes me, and you don’t like me.”

Negan sighs out, “Rick, no! He’s- he’s fucking messing with you, Rick! All those.. all that fucking stuff in your locker on-”

“No!” He yells, voice growing loud and desperate, “You don’t like me!”

Negan shrinks, but stands his ground, “Yes, I do,” he says, swallowing down a lump in his throat because it’s more than just _like_ at this point.

“No, you don’t,” Rick insists.

“Yes I do!”

“You just like having sex with me, Negan!” He yells again in distress, “That’s it!“ his chest is heaving like he’s ran a mile in a minute, and he’s trying to steady his baffled heart, begging, “I need you to realize that… _please_.”

Negan looks down at Rick’s dire face, at the stress in his eyes.

He slumps in defeat, shakes his tired head, feeling that quiet, simmering anger overboil in his belly word by word, and making him outright manic as he says,

“You know what, Rick? I think you’re right. I think the only reason I like you is because I just _looove_ to fucking fuck you! Not even like you, like you, but just like you in general! I only put up with you practically living in my fucking house so that way you’ll let me stick my dick in you- That’s the only reason I fucking care about you, you’re _sooo_ fucking right! I’m- I’m so _happy_ you finally fucking figured that the fuck out so I don’t have to pretend like I actually give a single fucking shit about your stupid fucking virgin face and your stupid fucking feelings, so fuck you, Rick,” his voice cracks with emotion, jaw clenching, and he has no time to be embarrassed, “Now you can finally go fuck your stupid fucking boyfriend who doesn’t give a shit about you and can only last thirty seconds in the sack, because I _don’t_ fucking care about you, okay? I _don’t._ ”

Rick looks at him with a stone-like face so hard with hatred, but his eyes are soft and glazed, speaking out a silent message of _I knew it_ \- and that’s when Negan regrets what he’s just said.

He’s spent so long trying to get Rick to trust him, to get Rick to know that it wasn’t just about sex, and now he’s blown it with a few bitter words.

Still, he can’t believe Rick would believe him. Hasn’t Negan done enough to convince him otherwise? Has all of this time trying to better himself and his own sorry character been in vain? Should he just give the fuck up now?

He wants to. Sometimes he thinks about how easy it was to be someone who wasn’t himself, because if it wasn’t really him, he couldn’t get hurt or attached or _feel_ things.

_Sometimes I feel like I just wanna go back to my old ways…_

Negan can hear that sad, tiny, girly voice in the back of his head, singing to him.

He feels so sad.

One second angry and bitter, and the next he’s so gravely sad; that’s what Rick does to him.

“Fuck you,” Rick manages to get out, voice trembling, “I _trusted_ you. I felt _safe_ with you after having no one to feel safe with for years. I knew you’d never change- I _knew_ it,” Rick grits his teeth, and his jaw starts quivering, “I just wanted you to because I wanted the old you back, but he’s never coming back, and I… I should’ve never let you touch me.”

 _I want the old you back, too_ , Negan thinks, but he doesn’t say it.

“Yeah, you shouldn’t have,” is what he does say, because it's true.

But it’s mostly Negan’s fault.

He shouldn’t have let Rick convince him.

Really it took no convincing- maybe Negan should’ve just had greater will power.

Maybe Negan should’ve just been a nicer person so karma wouldn’t have to come back and bite him in the ass this hard.

Rick turns in the other direction and leaves, not a single tear shed until he’s alone in the halls, looking for Jesus but not wanting the teen to see him crying.

He stops in the boy’s bathroom, looking at his reddened face in the mirror.

All he can see in the front of his mind is a fresh new treehouse, the dim twilight sinking in, two little boys sharing a kiss, one of them with a twinkling heart that swelled in size the second their lips touched.

Is that Negan now? Is that how Negan feels everytime they touch?

Can Rick ever feel that way about him again? Can he ever feel that way again, too, when he spent years looking into the rocking waves of the California ocean telling himself Negan would never feel the same? Telling himself to just get over it?

-

_Are u sleeping here tonight?_

No answer. 

_I’m sorry blu_

_Ur right.. I don’t like you I was just… dicknotized_

_I’m sorry I mean it_

_Did u change ur mind abt Prom? ;)_

  _Jk That was a joke .. I was jk_

 _Plz answer me_ ricky :(

_R we still friends?_

_I’m really sorry_

Negan can’t keep his eyes off of his phone, waiting and hoping for that three dotted bubble to pop up.

When five minutes pass, he knows Rick’s not gonna respond. He’s a fast texter, he would’ve said something by now.

He puts his phone away with a sigh, rolls into his bed to try and get some sleep.

Two minutes later, and his phone is vibrating, and he’s jumping out of bed anticipating a response from Rick, but it’s just some stupid email from some online petition he signed so many months ago.

Then he’s sitting on the side of his bed, looking down at his phone in his hand.

Fuck it, he thinks, he’s just gonna call.

Negan leaves his room and heads out onto the porch into the midnight moonlight, naturally wearing nothing but his underwear.

He dials Rick’s number, then presses his phone to his ear.

One ring and his call is being rejected.

And the same thing happens for the second call...

And the third.

And the fourth.

And the fifth.

And the sixth.

The seventh time, Rick answers on the very last ring.

“ _What do you want, Negan??”_

He sounds annoyed more than anything, but Negan is just happy to hear his voice.

Shit… after the first six calls he didn’t think he would get this far. If he’d known, he would’ve thought of something good to say.

“I just.. I just wanted to hear your voice,” Negan says, feeling like an idiot with how stupid he sounds, “I just wanted to make sure you were alright… since you weren’t answering my texts,” Negan adds bitterly.

He can almost hear how Rick rolls his eyes.

“I’m fine,” he says, almost mockingly, “Just getting _fucked_ by my _boyfriend_.”

It’s obvious he’s lying, but Negan scoffs, heart stinging, “Huh… by the way you’re speaking so clearly it doesn’t sound like he’s doing a good job.”

“Oh, shut up.”

“Make me.”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“Yeah, I fucking would.”

“Love my dick down your throat, making you fucking choke?”

“Yeah…”

“How about my hands around your fucking throat, putting my dick to good use somewhere else instead?”

Negan swallows down a moan.

“Where, baby?”

Rick pauses at the pet name.

“You know where,” he says, and then after a break, “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

His voice spites Negan, full of accusation, so condescending.

And the arousal leaves.

“I think you’d like it more than I would,” Negan says, and he sees Rick on his dick, using him with ease, sees the swift motion of Rick turning his head, denying a kiss.

“I don’t like you, Negan.”

“I know you don’t.”

“I’m not twelve anymore.”

Negan gives a soft laugh, drenched in melancholy.

“I know you aren’t.”

“I hate you, Negan,” Rick says, “I really do.”

“I know,” Negan nods, looking solemnly up at the stars and how they pity him, “I know you do.”

Then he closes his eyes, head still tilted up towards vast constellations, and says, quietly, “Goodnight, Blue.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thnak u all for reading!! i hope you and enjoyed and im fukn sorry... anyways, feedback and constructive criticism are more than welcome :) <333


	19. Ochre

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> song mood IVY and if u dont know by WHOM .... shame

“Rick hasn’t been by the house in a while, huh?”

Negan’s Dad is casual while he says it, pouring out a bowl of Frosted Flakes to match the one Negan is currently hunched over.

“No,” Negan says, “he hasn’t.”

“ _Por que?_ ”

His voice is more intent now, as are his eyes, shelled over with concern.

Negan just shrugs, stirring his spoon around the flaccid corn flakes baptized in low fat milk.

Fortunately, his Dad doesn’t push it, and just leaves it be.

“I’m sure he’ll come around.”

-

It's been two weeks since Rick has slept at Negan’s, or asked Negan to pick him up from track practice or take him to Creme Cup.

It's been two weeks since they’ve had sex.

Or at least it's been two weeks for Rick. He’s seen Negan with a few girls, walking into that same janitors closet, same ditzy smirk plastered onto his face like he’s over it all now.

Rick’s not sure why that hurts. It was just sex, after all. Just practice.

Maybe Negan finally realized that.

They still talk, but only when they have to, like when they’re made partners on an assignment by default because everyone has always thought of them as a pair.

Even then, they talk sparingly, and still it’s enough for them to start arguing, to start rubbing each other the wrong way, until they both get irritated enough to stop talking until the bell rings.

Then they leave without another word or a glance cast back at one another- but maybe Negan looks over his shoulder to see if Rick had done the same.

Negan doesn’t eat lunch anymore, not since the day after he asked Rick to go to Prom with him, because on that day, he went to go sit by Rick as an attempt to be civil, and Rick looked him blankly in the eye and said, “Jesus sits here,” and then looked away, like Negan was some stranger.

Everyone, Michonne and Andrea and Maggie and Glenn, looked at him with sorry eyes.

Negan felt that bitter irritation boil in his stomach, and he wanted to say something, but in the corner of his eye he saw Jesus saunter up to the table, smelt his tobacco and saw his leather.

So he just left, sat at an empty table all by himself, and watched them from afar.

It reminded him of middle school, after Rick left, when he’d watch people sit with their friends at lunch and wish he could just have the _one_ friend he did have back in his life.

Only difference now is that same friend looks back at him every five minutes or so, pretending like he wasn’t looking for Negan whenever they make eye contact, and Negan has to pretend like he hasn’t seen Rick naked, or like he doesn’t know what Rick looks like when he cums.

Negan watches Jesus for two weeks at lunch, and wishes he was him, wishes he was his brand of cool, and that he was naturally flawless and that he could easily capture the attention and affection of Rick.

Until he realizes he never will be Jesus, and he starts skipping lunch to go to the skatepark and skate with Dwight when he’s on break from Creme Cup.

Sometimes he doesn’t even go back to school after those thirty minutes are up; he just stays there, even when Dwight has to go.

He lands his first hippie jump without missing the footing on his board, and his victory has him seeing stars.

Dwight thinks it's something else.

“When’s the last time you fucking ate something, man,” Dwight says, and it's not a question, “You look fucking gaunt.”

“Like sexy gaunt?” Negan jokes, not liking the seriousness in Dwight’s tone, or the strife concern in his eyes. It's the same look his parents have been giving him these past weeks.

“That’s not funny,” Dwight says, and then he’s climbing up the bowl.

“C’mon,” he says, “Let’s go get some food.”

Negan shakes his head.

“I’m not hungry,” he says, plus he doesn’t think he can climb up that bowl without passing out or dying.

“You need to eat to land sweet tricks. Your hippie jump needs some improvement, but it's nothing a chocolate milkshake with extra whip can’t fix.”

Negan grimaces.

“I’m really not hungry, okay? I’m not _not_ eating on purpose,” he says, but it's only half true.

He started restricting his eating, thinking maybe losing some weight would fix his problems, because somehow his weight is always the first thing to come to mind when something awful happens. But lately his depression has been killing his appetite, making it easier for him to forget about food.

Dwight pulls a plastic bag full of green out of the pocket of his Dickies, “I got something that’ll fix that.”

Negan finds the strength to climb the bowl so he can go smoke a bowl or two.

They go back to Dwight’s apartment, and it's messy but comfortable and always smells like patchouli and incense and Sherry’s always making hummus and tahini or whatever it's called.

Negan sits down on their worn out floral couch that was once white but is now a ripened shade of aged ochre, and sinks right into the center, grabbing Dwight’s pipe off of the coffee table and packing up.

A few minutes later and he’s feeling better. He hasn’t smoked in a while.

He resettles into a lying position and is drifting off into a heavy, peaceful slumber for the first time in a while when the sounds of Dwight placing some stuff down on the coffee table wakes him up.

“I would’ve taken you to Creme Cup, but I figured maybe grease on a plate wasn’t the best thing for you to eat after that skate sesh…”

Negan takes a look at the protein shake and the carton of strawberries before him.

“You better drink that shit,” Dwight says, “Protein is expensive… and eat the strawberries, too, or Rick’ll probably kick my ass.”

Negan crooks an eyebrow, “What?”

“Rick came into Creme Cup with Jesus the other day and asked if you’d stopped by recently, and I said no, and he asked me to make sure you were eating… I didn’t understand why but now I do, so eat the damn fruit.”

Negan sits up, stares down at his hands, dusted with dirt and icky with sweat.

He wipes them off on his pants that are just as dirty and opens up the carton full of ripe fruit, downs the shake in one go.

-

Things were getting easier, he and Rick had begun to be civil with each other, which really meant they just didn’t talk to each other as much, because when they talked, one of them ended up pissed- if not both.

The pain was starting to fade as Negan went through every person in the high school that wouldn’t turn him down. He had to turn to college kids on the weekends now to get his fill, which sucks because college parties are annoying.

Prom is in less than a month.

Negan’s going with Lucille, Rick is going with Jesus, probably.

Jesus seems too cool for Prom.

Negan’s picking through his locker, exhausted from the mindless hours of sitting through a boring day of school, just trying to catch a breather, when  Simon approaches him, leaning casually next to his locker like Negan's seen Jesus do with Rick so many times.

“What do you want, Simon?” He asks, too tired to sound annoyed.

Simon grins, pointing at the small wallet sized picture of Rick that hangs by Lucille, stroking it with his pointer finger before he snatches it from its place, saying, “I’ll be taking this little gem off your hands…”

Negan sighs deeply, “Give it back,” he says, even tacking on a defeated “Please,” as he holds his palm out.

Simon moves it out of his reach, “ _This_ is Jesus’ now. You see, he’s gonna tack this shit up on a big ol’ bulletin board beneath his bed- a bed Rick’s probably become _well_ acquainted with, by the way- a bulletin board titled _Twinks I’ve Fucked_ ,” Simon’s grin widens, “And your little Ricky has just of yesterday, become the fresh new face of this very inclusive board.”

Negan stays blank, but on the inside everything just falls.

“You should be proud of yourself,” Simon says, condescending, “The boy is off doing bigger, better things…” Simon snorts, “ _and_ people!”

He laughs some more, slapping a hand against Negan’s shoulder before he treks on, Rick’s picture between his fingers still.

And Negan’s wound is torn open and agape, as good as new.

-

Rick has to find ways to kill time so that he doesn’t think about Negan. Usually Jesus comes to his house, and they make out on his bed, or Rick will go to Jesus’ house just to do the same thing.

Jesus hasn’t been pressuring him to do anything, but rather it’s Rick who is so eager. He wants to replace that feeling of Negan all over him.

Whenever he thinks blowjob or handjob or eaten out, he doesn’t want to see Negan’s face anymore.

He wants to see Jesus’.

They’re making out on Jesus’ bed, Rick anchored by the teens weight on top of him, when he strips off all his clothes bit by bit until he’s laid out naked before Jesus, who ogles his body before taking the boy in a kiss, brandishing the rest of Rick with his lips.

This is something Rick knows. Negan did this with him all the time, sucking and biting and licking and kissing at his neck and his chest and his nipples and going down down down until finally he’s giving Rick some life changing head, or licking softly into his hole.

Rick thinks it’ll be the same with Jesus, that Jesus will take his half hard cock in his mouth and make him hard as steel, get him all loose and ready for sex, absolutely crazy for it.

But no.

Jesus pecks at his chest a few times- doesn’t lavish his entire body, and then he’s turning Rick over onto his stomach.

Oh he’s gonna finger me, Rick thinks, because that’s what Negan does. He’s gonna spread me apart and eat me out- and Rick’s excited for that.

But no, all Rick feels is some lube slathered on his hole and a hard, latex covered cock pushing against him.

“Wait!” Rick says as he looks over his shoulder at Jesus, turning red as he sheepishly asks, “Can you, um, can you… eat me out first?”

Jesus gives him a weird look, like Rick just asked him to take a dump on his chest, and says, cock still pressed against Rick, “I don’t do that.”

“Oh…” is all Rick says, embarrassed, and he faces forward.

And then, without another word, Jesus is slipping inside, stretching Rick out in a way that’s less than comfortable.

Rick lets out a hiss. He figures maybe it could hurt worse than this, and he’s thankful this is not his first time.

People really weren’t lying when they said Negan was the best at sex.

Jesus cums on Rick’s back maybe a few minutes later, and not one of his thrusts managed to feel good.

Not only that, but Rick is kind of mostly soft, and Jesus doesn’t seem bothered by it.

Maybe it’s good that it doesn’t hurt his pride, and Rick’s not gonna make Jesus get him off, but Negan would have made sure he came.

As he’s lying there on Jesus’ bed, forehead pressed against his arm as a pillow, face hidden in the mattress, he realizes all that sex with Negan really didn’t prepare him for anything except sex with Negan.

And all that sex with Negan gave him very high expectations, maybe even gave him a false idea of what casual sex is supposed to be like.

Wasn’t it all supposed to be tender? Full of slow kisses and praising words and touches and slow and sexy foreplay?

Maybe that was just with Negan.

Maybe sex can’t ever be the same between two people as it is with two other people.

All Rick knows is that this, with Jesus, is not what he was expecting.

“Was this your first time?” Jesus asks, and they lie side by side, a gap of space between them.

Rick thinks back on his first time: the treehouse, Negan’s hands, Negan’s mouth.

Negan looked so scared, so worried, so concerned.

He handled Rick like he was the world's smallest origami flower, crafted with tissue paper, worth more than the world’s last nugget of gold.

Right now Rick feels more than used.

“No,” He answers.

Jesus seems surprised, if not a little disappointed.

“Hmmph... Seemed like it.”

-

Negan runs out towards the football field.

Rick is just leaving out of the field house, freshly showered, when Negan approaches him.

 _“_ You slept with him?” Negan asks exasperatedly, voice so tight and choked.

Rick stops in his tracks, flustered for a second, like he doesn’t know what to say, like he doesn’t want to admit it.

But he sees that look on Negan’s face, that anger, and it gets on his last nerve.

“Yeah, I did..”

“You fucked him?!”

Rick sighs, gritting his teeth, “You don’t _own_ me, for Christ’s sake. I’m not _yours._ Yes, I fucked him, okay?? He’s my boyfriend, we fucked, what do you expect, Negan?”

_Boyfriend…_

“How.. H-how could you? What- Why? Why would you fucking do that, Rick, I-“

“What do you mean how could I? This whole thing between us, me and you doing things, was just practice. It was setting me up for something like this! Stop acting like I did something wrong, when you’ve been messing around with other people ever since the day you asked me to Prom!

Negan goes silent.

“Rick, those people are just- I don’t care about those people, Rick. Not like how I care about you, okay? I know I said all that shit about how I didn’t care about you, but I do, and I’m so fucking sorry. I care about you, you have to know that- you have to have seen that, have to have fucking _felt_ that.”

Rick has felt it, has seen it sparkling and softening Negan’s eyes, and it's made him uncomfortable time and time again because he’s never had the chance to successfully come to terms with how he felt about Negan, just shoved all those feelings away because it was better to forget than to realize he had to grieve. Because grieving meant that Negan was gone, and Rick didn’t want Negan to be gone.

“After all this time, that’s all you see us as? Practice? That’s all it’s been to you? Just… practice?” He’s not trying to be condescending, or rude, or make Rick feel like a dumbass. It’s a real question.

One Negan’s not sure he wants the answer to.

Rick blinks, looks down, and Negan can only assume it's a yes.

He nods, and the short movement is bitter and weak, blond hair shaking with a life of its own.

“Was he good?” Negan asks suddenly.

Rick’s eyes widen.

“What?”

“Did he fuck you good? You gonna go back to his house every night just to fuck him, like you did with me?

Rick flushes, and though he’s angry, it’s not from that, “Negan, don't… don’t fucking start with me..”

Negan sighs, shakes his head. He swallows down his huge lump of jealousy, and he’s surprised it doesn’t choke him.

“It’s just…” Negan takes in a deep breath, and it washes away every guard, every morsel of anger, so that it's just him, “Why him? Why Jesus? Why _him_?”

“He’s not as bad as everyone thinks.”

Negan scowls.

“Why? Just because you think he made you some cute little flower pot with your fucking name on it?”

Rick crooks his head, brows furrowed tightly, “What do you mean _I think_?”

“He’s friends with Simon!” Negan yells, instead of something else, “That should speak for it’s fucking self.”

Rick scoffs, “So were you!”

“Yeah, but I’m not anymore!” Negan catches himself yelling and he shuts his eyes, runs a hand through his tangled hair, “Rick, he’s an- he’s an asshole. Being with him, it's gonna be so bad for you. He’s no good for you, and he doesn’t care about you! One way or another, with him, you’re just gonna end up like your-”

Negan stops himself before he can say it.

Rick knows what was about to come out of his mouth, and he narrows his eyes, face going hard.

“Like my parents? Like my- like my _mom_?” Rick suggests, finishing that sentence, and his jaw clenches angrily. He feels tears of both anger and despair begin to sting behind his eyes, feels his eyebrows bend with the will to cry.

“Rick, you know I didn’t mean it like that,” Negan says quietly, guilt filling him wholly.

“Fuck you!” Rick spits, and his tears slip down his cheeks, “I hate you! Fucking… fuck you!” He starts blubbering, but despite his anger, he bridges the small gap between them, moving easily into Negan, hiding his tears in Negan’s shirt.

“I didn’t mean it like that, Blue,” Negan repeats, softer, and Rick lays his head on Negan’s chest, lets Negan wrap his arms around him, “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.”

“I know,” Rick sobs, overcome with emotion, trying not to let that cloud his judgement, “I know.”

Negan rubs at his back, shushes him gently.

“I’m sorry,” he says.

“I know,” Rick says again, “It’s okay.”

Rick stops crying sooner or later, lessening his sadness to just sniffles and red, puffy eyes.

Negan pulls away just a little to get a look at him, tries for a weak smile as he looks into those blue eyes, so glazed and wet.

Rick just looks up at him blankly, save for scrunched brows, before he leaves out of Negan’s arms without another word, walking across the grass towards the gates of the football field, until he’s in a full jog heading back towards the school.

_-_

Negan hasn’t felt this terrible since he was thirteen years old.

He walks from the football field back to his truck and gets inside, sitting in the parking lot and listening to the radio, trying to let it numb him, trying to let it soothe him and his edgy nerves.

Some oldies channel is playing, and right when Negan recognizes the voice singing the song as Jimi Hendrix, he sees Rick and Jesus standing near the schools bus stop just a few feet away from him, talking.

They look like they’re arguing, or at least Rick looks frustrated… and his hair is still damp.

Jesus looks entertained, like seeing Rick so angry is funny to him.

It makes Negan’s blood boil.

Rick’s eyebrows furrow with irritation, and Jesus laughs, only making Rick angrier, making his face scrunch up tighter.

Rick turns to leave while Jesus is in the middle of a sentence, and he grabs Rick’s wrist and tugs him back in a way that Negan doesn’t like.

That’s the last straw for Negan- every feeling he’s been feeling these last couple weeks, all the feelings he’s been trying to stifle with deep inhales and long exhales and skateboarding and weed- and he snaps like a twig.

He’s out of his truck before he can help himself, Jimi Hendrix calling out and asking him, _Hey Joe, where you goin’ with that gun in your hand?_ as he approaches Jesus, much to Rick’s chagrin.

“Don’t touch him like that,” Negan says to Jesus, voice taut and constricted, the calm before the storm.

“ _Negan-”_

“Like what?” Jesus interrupts, feigning innocence in a way meant to egg Negan on.

Little did he know, Negan was a hair away from hostility.

He throws a mean punch, clocking Jesus straight in the nose, catching him off guard.

But he catches himself easily, clutching his nose tightly to try and stop the flow of blood before he wipes it off on his sleeve.

Rick freezes, watching as Jesus recuperates and throws his own punch, straight across Negan’s face.

It affects the blond to no degree, or so it seems, and another punch is thrown from his side, this time sending Jesus to the ground.

It isn’t until Negan is on top of Jesus, landing blow after blow as a group of people grow around them, that Rick snaps out of it.

“Stop!” He yells, marveled eyes latched onto Negan's bloodied fists as they connect with Jesus’ bloodied face, “Negan!” He yells, “Please! You’re hurting him!”

Negan is in a funk, blacked out with anger.

Rick panics as he takes another good look at Jesus’ face, and he grabs Negan by the arm, trying to yank him off despite his resistance.

But Negan is stronger than he looks, and he reaches out for Jesus again.

“Stop it!” Rick yells

“No!” Negan roars, feral and vicious.

Rick shoves Negan back with a hard shoulder, throwing him off balance before his fist meets his face, right across the cheek, right where Jesus got him.

A girl screams out, “Hey!” So accusatory- a bath of anger- and it’s Lucille, making her way through the crowd, eyeing Rick heavily, “Watch your fucking hands, buddy!”

“He wouldn’t stop!” Rick fumbles helplessly, unable to fathom Lucille’s venomous look and how it’s directed towards him.

“I don’t care!” Lucille snaps.

But it worked, Negan snapped out of it and now he’s staring at Rick with a look of hurt as he clutches his cheek.

Lucille steadies Negan with a grip around his arm as he sways slowly backwards, taking in the scene before him as he looks down at his hands after feeling the warm and sticky contact on his face.

Jesus is still on the floor, but he looks conscious. Rick goes to him- always goes to him- and tries to help him up, but Jesus and his bruised ego push Rick away.

Negan looks over at the people staring at him- at _them_.

They look shocked.

He runs a hand through his hair and it stains the strands.

He looks down at Lucille by his side, whose soft face is hardened by circumstances, and she looks back up at him.

-

“Do you understand the depth of the consequences you could face? Did you even _think_ about how this could affect you? What this could do to your record if that boy presses charges? What about Prom? Graduation? Did you even think about those things before you decided to do what you did? You could be spending the rest of your last year of high school in a disciplinary program, away from all of your friends; Do you understand _that_?”

Negan sits before the principal in her office, slouching down in his seat, legs carelessly spread far out as he stares down at his hands and how mostly clean they are now, save for the small flecks of dried blood left in the cracks of his fingers.

He’s still shaking, still high off of adrenaline, although it's wearing off, and he’s starting to feel the crash, starting to feel the ache in his sprained knuckles.

Negan shakes his head no.

“I asked you a question, with my voice, I expect you to answer, with your voice.”

“No,” Negan provides pointedly, a firm word so full of attitude.

His principal doesn’t like that.

“You're eighteen years old, Negan. You’re going to graduate this year- _maybe_ , if you get your grades up, you’re failing three of your classes- and if our investigation finds no reason to suspend you.”

Negan says nothing as she pauses.

“You should be smarter than this!” She sighs, disappointed, “Don’t you want to get out of here? Don’t you want to leave this place and go to college? Make your own life?”

Negan bites down on his tongue, trying to stop his jaw from quivering.

“It’s time you start taking your future into consideration,” she says, “Have you thought about that? About what you want with your life?”

Negan feels his breath heave in his chest, the same way it always does when he wants to sob, when he’s about to cry.

He clutches onto his chair, trying to let the pain that sprouts within his knuckles distract him from his sorrows.

“Negan…” her voice is softer as she sees the boy struggles become external, “I need an answer.”

“ _No,”_ He chokes out, looking her in the eye, frown curled with scorn, “But you don’t… you don’t get it.”

She eyes him with pity, with sadness, and Negan can no longer face her and her wrinkled, lived in face because all he can wonder is what she lived through when she was his age, if she has ever been in love or if she even believes in it, if her look of sadness is from understanding or from shame.

Negan knows what he wants in the future, or so he thinks he does, but it's not a career or a salary or some superficial goal.

Even then, he’s not sure if it’s achievable.

His eyes fall on his lap, and then he can’t contain himself as his shoulders shake and his tears leak out of his eyes.

Each time he tries to wipe them away, he touches his cheek and it aches, and he’s reminded of Rick and of Jesus.

He feels helpless. He cries so much nowadays.

He hears the sound of his principal tugging tissues out of the box, hears her hand stretching out and offering.

Negan doesn’t accept it.

-

“You were there when the fight started, correct?”

Rick sits stick stiff in the principal's office, wringing his hands in his lap, knee bouncing rapidly as he eyes the woman with authority.

“Yes,” Rick says singularly, nodding before he shakes his head and corrects himself, “I mean- yes ma’am.”

“Relax, Rick,” she says, but the way she says it makes Rick feel like that’s the last thing he should be doing, “I just want you to answer this question, and answer it honestly.”

Rick gulps, nods, “Oh-okay.”

It was only a couple of seconds she took to speak again, but the break felt like an eternity to Rick.

He’s never been in the principal's office before, never felt this nervous, vulnerable energy, like he was some baby bird about to be flicked off his mother's spun nest.

“Who threw the first punch?” She asks, brows furrowed expectantly.

Rick’s heart stutters in his chest along with his breath. He’s sure his eyes visibly widen with the way he’s been taken off guard.

_Negan. It was Negan._

But he can’t say that. He can’t, right? Negan’s his friend, his _best_ friend.

But Jesus is his boyfriend, he takes Rick out on dates and stuff. They had sex. Sure it was terrible and Rick didn’t cum, but it still means something, right?

“I- I… I don’t know,” Rick answers, feigning overwhelmed, “It- It just… it all happened so fast that I, um, I can’t remember.”

-

“Look,” Lucille sighs, discreetly rolling her eyes as she fluffs up her mane of curls, “all I’m saying is that I heard there was a fight by the bus stop, right? And like any right minded civilian I thought, wow, let me go get some free action to get rid of this spirit dulling numbness in my skull. So, I saw Negan get socked in the face and I panicked and I went to help him. Then we all got called here, and that’s it. That’s all I know.”

“Did you see who laid the first hand?”

“No,” Lucille answers firmly, crossing her legs, “But I’ll bet you the honors cord off my graduation gown that it was Jesus,” she says, though she knows it was definitely Negan.

“What makes you say that?”

_I need Negan to graduate, that’s what makes me say that. I need the boy to catch a break. I need you to throw the boy a bone._

“You know how boys are…” she says rhetorically, pausing to rifle up an explanation when the principal raises an eyebrow expectantly, “They’re… they’re the world's most sensitive creatures and they don’t even know it. Jesus feels inferior to Negan, Negan feels inferior to Jesus. They’re both so fragile and masculine they think one is way greater than the other, but really, they’re both just the same.”

“That… doesn’t answer my question.”

Lucille shrugs, “Maybe you’re not thinking hard enough,” she says pensively, but she’s just blabbering on to save Negan’s ass.

-

Jesus’ right eye is swollen shut, and because of that he doesn’t know if this lady is more right than she is left, or more left than right. Shit, having only one usable eye really is confusing

“You and Negan,” the principal says, “You used to be friends.”

“Not really,” Jesus answers calmly, a slight drugged lilt to his voice because he’s straight out of the hospital and they put him on some gnarly drugs, “I just took his place on the basketball team. Didn’t even play a game with him.”

“Would you say there’s been tension between you two?”

“Oh yeah.”

“Why?”

“That kid,” Jesus says, taking a moment to remember, “Rick… Negan likes him.”

The principal hums, gaining insight, understanding, “So that was the motif, huh? Jealousy,” she leans back in her chair, “It’s safe to assume he threw the first punch, then?”

Jesus smirks crookedly, speaking with a slur, “That’s what you think? You think it was him?”

Her brows furrow slightly, a challenging tug, curious and impatient.

“It was me,” Jesus says, unbothered, and he thinks back to Valentine’s Day, then all the way back to the kissing booth, messing around with Rick’s feelings and interests just to see how Negan would react, just to see how much human he could get out of the basketball playing teen he used to look up to.

“I threw the first punch.”

-

“What’s gotten into you lately, huh?”

Negan sits in the passenger's side of his truck, his Mom in the driver's side after she deemed Negan unfit to drive, face hardened with stress and that same old concern she wears without asking.

“All you do is sulk. You don’t eat, I don’t even know if you sleep at this point. All you do is sulk and go to school, _siempre triste todo las dias y no se que hacer y_ … I haven’t seen you like this since Rick-”

She stops abruptly, sparing a quick glance at Negan to gauge his reaction, like she’s afraid she’s slipped up.

“I know what happened,” Negan snaps, “I’m not a little kid, stop talking to me like I’m some little kid who’s too young to understand! I’m eighteen, stop looking at me like I’m some-some baby! He told me what happened, okay? You don’t have to keep secrets from me anymore, or keep me _safe_ , because I already know.”

“I wasn’t keeping you safe,” she says after a pause, “I knew _you’d_ be fine. It was Rick I was keeping safe.”

“Well, you don’t have to worry about that anymore,” Negan says bitterly, staring out the window at the dull asphalt passing by before he goes quiet for the rest of the ride home.

When they pull into their driveway, Lucille is already there, sitting on the front porch.

“No visitors,” his Mom says firmly, and Negan sucks his teeth indignantly.

“She’s my only friend and you want me to send her away?”

“You should’ve thought about that before you got into a fight,” she says, trying to stand her ground, but then she looks over at the girl, sitting there and waiting, and she sighs, “Twenty minutes, and that’s it. _Comprendes?_ ”

-

“I can’t believe he hit you,” Lucille says, shaking her head exasperatedly as she looks over at Negan’s bruised cheek, “It pisses me off just thinking about it.”

Negan feels her gaze on him, but he looks up at the sky, feeling the breeze roll around him as he and Lucille lay on his trampoline.

“You would’ve done the same thing,” Negan says, “I don’t blame him. He was just stopping me from putting Jesus in a fucking coma.”

“I guess,” she sighs, “Still leaves a fugly taste in my mouth.”

Birds still sing and tweet around them, though Negan feels like shit. Dogs still bark and cats still climb up trees, but all this grace around him amplified his intensity.

“He had sex with Jesus,” Negan states plainly, “Did you know that? Now they’re boyfriends.”

“Negan-”

“Why does _he_ get to be Rick’s boyfriend?” Negan asks, “It doesn’t make sense to me… What does he feel when he looks at Jesus? Everytime I look at Rick I look into his eyes and just try to.. telepathically make him feel it, too- what I felt for him. I’d look into his eyes and think _please just_ feel _it,_ because I wanted him to feel it with me so bad. It’s the best thing I’ve ever felt, the most beautiful thing I’ve ever felt for somebody. But knowing it's just me that feels it, I… it hurts so bad,” he gulps down the lump in his throat, “It hurts so bad, because it’s so beautiful and he’ll never know how I really feel. He thinks I’m just dicknotized.”

“...Did you really just use the word dicknotized?”

“You got a better fuckin’ word for this situation?”

“Guess not,” she says after a moment.

They lie there silently, until Lucille grabs at Negan’s hand and says what she finally wants to say.

“People fall in love on their own time,” she says calmly, “You and Rick will find someone who’ll love you like you two deserve. Maybe it’ll be each other, and maybe it won’t. But you’ll be okay if isn’t, because you two will always be friends. Don’t throw that part away, no matter what happens. _That_ part, that friendship you two have isn’t worth losing over anything.”

-

It’s troublesome trying to think of Rick as just a friend after all they’ve been through together.

And when Negan says _been through_ , he doesn’t just mean the sex or the kissing, but all those little things, too.

Birthday parties, and picking lady bugs up off the grass outside on hot summer days. New clothes that turned into old ones that turned into yard sales where they sold old toys and cried about it.

Holding Rick on that one fateful night Negan learned about everything he weathered, going ninety miles per hour on a country backroad bend, laughing so hard they were screaming.

Always laughing or crying.

Crying from laughing too much, or laughing from crying so ugly in front of each other.

It’s been a great friendship, but something deeper has spawned in the midst of it.

Security, love, patience.

This is the most patience Negan has had in a long time. He’s so used to here and now.

Negan’s lying in his bed holding an ice pack to his swollen cheek when a knock on his window sounds.

 _It’s Rick_ , he thinks more than hopes, and a peek behind the curtains confirms that.

Rick gestures towards the front door and Negan shakes his head no as he begins to pick up the window, wincing at the soreness in his fingers.

“My Mom said no visitors,” Negan explains quietly, speaking to Rick through the thin screen that separates them.

Crickets chirp in the night and Rick looks up at Negan wearily, looking absorbed in his own thoughts.

“Can I talk to you?” He says.

Negan sighs, staring softly into Rick’s eyes before he gives a slight nod, and Rick is helping Negan remove the screen of the window, and Negan is helping Rick sneak into his house.

Negan lies down on his bed, and Rick goes to follow.

Negan is stiff as a board, because every time they’ve lied down next to each other in the recent past, it’s ended in sex.

Rick turns towards Negan, feels something cold near his hand: an ice pack.

A train of guilt hits him immediately, and he grabs the coldness in his hand.

“Turn towards me,” Rick says, and Negan is scared to oblige, but he does so anyways.

Their eyes lock, and Rick’s eyes skim his discolored face.

Negan looks down quickly, ashamed of his bruised cheek.

Rick cups his jaw with one hand, presses the ice pack to Negan’s cheek with the other, and the blond boy winces at the cold.

“I’m sorry I hit you,” Rick apologizes, watching as Negan looks up at him with dull eyes, “I didn’t know what to do.”

Negan accepts his apology with silence.

“I’m sorry I brought up your parents.”

“It’s okay,” Rick says quietly, voice dimmer.

Negan shuts his eyes, lulling softly towards sleep, but never quite getting there. Most nights he can never quite get there.

When he opens his eyes again, Rick is staring down at him, unabashedly, but the look in his eyes is saddened.

“I love you, Rick,” Negan finally confesses as his gaze is locked with Rick’s, voice simple like he figures he has nothing left to lose, “I think I’ve loved you my whole life.”

Negan watches all the nuances about Rick’s face, the way his frown deepens by the second.

“I’m sorry,” he says, sounding utterly pained, “I can’t love you like that.”

Negan feels a sharp stick in his gut, a quick sting in the ducts of his eyes, and he has to turn away before Rick can see him look so pathetic with tears in his eyes.

“You never even tried,” Negan swallows, voice breaking bitterly as he speaks to the wall of his room, vision blurring with yet another set of tears.

“Can’t- can’t you just try?”

Rick sighs quietly, but follows Negan, placing the ice pack on the nightstand and tucking himself up and behind Negan, holding him in, pressing his forehead against Negan’s shoulder blade and wrapping an arm around the boy’s middle.

Negan falls asleep with Rick’s pitying arms around him, and wakes up erratically at four in the morning to Rick being gone, and the window being immaculately locked and shut like it was all just a dream- the only proof of Rick having been there bestowed in the ruffled mess of the still warm sheets beside Negan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanak u all for reading the pain ends soon. hope u enjoyed and feedback constructive criticism are more than welcome!! <33


	20. Turquoise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lol im LATE

Negan’s stopped having sex with other people in attempts to maybe focus on himself for a change.

He thinks a lot about the talk his Mom gave to him and Rick that morning she saw them tangled up in bed together, and how they both somehow let everything she said slip right past their minds.

Maybe he shouldn’t have had sex so young, or so whimsically, but it made him feel good for a small fragment in time and that was more than enough. But now it’s not.

He also thinks a lot about what Lucille said, about how he shouldn’t let that friendship between he and Rick die, about how precious it is.

After that night where Negan pathetically begged for Rick to try and love him, Negan was afraid he had lost that friendship and that Rick was weirded out by him now.

Much like before, they still talked at school, but only when they had classes together- which was still the majority of the day. But now when they talked, they didn’t get on each other’s nerves as much.

But now there was this underlying layer of sadness that was retained, that sort of boring pity you use when you feel required to talk to someone, or when you’re just trying to be polite.

Negan's seen Rick’s flaccid dick (much more intimate than a hard dick), licked his fucking ass, fucked him in a treehouse for God’s sake- he’s known Rick since he was six years old and they’re acting polite around each other.

It makes Negan sad.

Negan doesn’t go back to sitting with Rick at lunch even though Jesus is gone at some disciplinary program; he still goes out to skate and grab some food with Dwight.

He doesn’t pick Rick up from track practice, they don’t have sleepovers, they don’t drive to school together in Negan’s truck, or go to Creme Cup or go grocery shopping, and they most definitely don’t text.

They’re not  _ friends _ anymore, though it hurts Negan to admit it. They’re something like acquaintances now, and after all they’ve done together, that hurts the most.

And Negan thinks that’s it, that’s how it has to be- until one day he’s driving home from school after staying late for yearbook, trying to help Michonne weasel out the best and worst pictures of the tuba section, and he sees Rick walking down the street by the park.

It reminds him of the day he outed Rick to Simon, saying they had fucked when they hadn’t.

Now they have, though, and that’s funny in a morbid way.

Rick’s wearing running shorts and a wispy t-shirt that sways in the early April winds. His hair is wound in loose, overgrown curls and he looks so fucking cute already and Negan can’t even see his face.

Negan slows down, honks his horn.

Rick jumps up slightly, turns around with surprise in his eyes as he pulls out his headphones.

“You want a ride?” Negan asks once he’s come to a stop, and looking Rick in the eye so close up feels too intense.

Rick blushes hard, and it’s then that Negan notices the innuendo.

“I’m- uh..” Rick looks down, shakes his head clear, then looks back up and nods, saying, “Yeah… okay.”

He climbs into Negan’s truck, sits as close as he can to the passengers door, body stiff and tense.

“You hungry?” Negan asks after a minute, glancing over at Rick, hoping to shift things back to the old ways. But isn’t that exactly what he’s trying to avoid? 

He doesn’t want to revert to their old ways, doesn’t want to start anew- what does Negan even want? What does  _ Rick _ want? 

Maybe he doesn’t want anything to do with Negan at all.

Rick shakes his head sheepishly, “No,” he says.

It’s one word but somehow Negan finds a way to read into it too much.

Silence follows, save for the music that plays, and when Rick listens, he recognizes the song all too greatly.

It’s the song that always played when he and Negan would have sex. It played so much that Rick wondered sometimes if Negan would put it on on purpose.

Negan notices the song, too. How can he not when it's the only sound being made in their tiny space?

He notices it even more once Rick reaches out to turn it down, and Negan swallows down a wad of tension lodged in his throat.

As they venture closer to their destination, Negan finds he doesn’t want Rick to go.

He wants to laugh with him, and listen to music with him, and talk to him, and go back to his house and take an after school nap with him.

“Do you.. do you want me to drop you off a block away?” Negan asks.

“No, it’s okay,” Rick says, much to Negan’s surprise, “You can just drop me off..  _ there. _ ”

“Really?” Negan says, curious voice caught off guard.

Rick nods, giving Negan the proper directions.

“You’re okay there?” Negan asks, voice cautious, “You’re not.. Louie’s not…?”

“I’m fine,” Rick nods, and he doesn’t look like he’s lying, “Louie finally went off to college somewhere near Austin when the spring semester started, so he’s gone and it’s just me and my aunt. It’s... it’s fine.”

“That’s good,” Negan says, nodding, and he means it, but then he wonders, “Was it hard? Coming to my house everyday and seeing your old house just right beside it? After everything you went through? Everything that happened in there?”

“Yeah…” is all Rick says, and his voice is small.

Negan nods, and he feels sorry, almost regrets asking.

Rick clears his throat a quick moment later, “And you?” He asks, “Are you doing okay?”

“I’m doing… better,” Negan says, looking forward at the road, smiling at the paved way as he says, “My mom found out about my skateboarding.”

A small gasp, “Oh no… How?”

“I started skating in the empty pool whenever she wasn’t home.”

“And then?”

“And then one day… she was fucking home.”

Rick chuckles, “Well, what did she do?”

“She made me clean the whole fucking pool... and repaint it… and refill it,” Negan says, and before he can help himself, he adds, “So if you ever wanna stop on by, the water is a-flowin’... No skinny dipping, though.”

“Really?” Rick says, eyes eager, disregarding that last line.

“Yeah,” Negan says, tone saying  _ of course _ .

“...Can we go now?”

“You wanna go now?”

“Yeah,” Rick says, “I haven’t been swimming in forever.”

“Rick, we went to the beach in January.”

“That was like four months ago!”

“Okay fine. Point fucking proven,” Negan smiles a small smile as he parks in the lot of Rick’s aunt’s apartment complex, “Go get some clothes and shit and I’ll be waiting in here.”

Rick unbuckles his seatbelt, looking over at Negan bashfully, “You don’t wanna… come in?”

Negan stares for a second, fish mouths, “I… I’m not- I don’t, uh…”

_ What does that mean? Come in? _

He’s been watching a lot of Sex and The City lately with Lucille and everytime one of the women asks their date if they wanna come in, they have sex- casual, fleeting sex.

But this isn’t a date, and they’re two teenage boys who are just friends.

Just friends that used to fuck each other’s brains out- but now just friends.

“Okay, yeah,” Negan continues, “Yeah, I'll come in.”

And he follows Rick into his vacant home away from home, all the way into his room.

It’s small, but Negan’s room is only a little bit bigger.

His bed is pushed to a corner, and the sheets are ruffled and soft looking, nestling a young Valentine’s Day teddy bear.

Beside his bed is a large dresser, doubling as a nightstand stand, Negan sees the flower pot with a couple carnations still going strong, sees some flowers in a vase that are crisp and dead, falling off onto the dresser like some ‘macabre honeymoon trail to the heart shaped bed’, sees the note he wrote for Rick that Rick thinks Jesus wrote.

Sometimes Negan thinks about telling Rick it was him who did all that, who got him all this stuff for Valentine’s Day.

But then he thinks it wouldn’t make a difference. No matter what, Rick still wouldn’t love him. In fact, maybe he would just hate him more for keeping the truth for that long.

Negan's too scared to admit it all now. It feels a little too late.

Rick picks out his clothes, and they leave back to Negan’s house.

-

Inviting Rick over to his house to go swimming was the worst thing Negan could’ve ever done.

The second Rick takes off his shirt, Negan’s dick twitches in his pants, and it only rises and rises at the thought of seeing Rick all wet and shiny.

“Oh god, it’s cold,” Rick says dreadfully, clenching his teeth and dipping a wary toe in the water.

He steps in gradually, and he’s gasping and panting by the time he’s waist deep, and Negan chokes on a groan because God that sounds a lot like something else Negan used to hear on the regular.

Negan sighs deeply, does the sign of the cross, then jumps into the deep end, banishing his half chub away.

When he resurfaces, he’s caught off guard by Rick who’s right by his side, facing him, hair pushed back and wet in a way that makes Negan gulp.

“Why are you wearing that?” He asks, eyeing Negan’s head curiously.

Negan reaches a hand up to sheepishly touch his shower cap, “It protects the blond, dammit. Prom’s coming up soon, I can’t be the bitch who shows up with chlorine-fucked hair.”

“You’re still going to prom?” Rick asks, “With who?”

Negan doesn’t know if he’s imagining the small hint of jealousy in Rick’s tone, or if it's just surprise.

It's most likely just surprise.

“Lucille,” he says, “Who else?”

Rick looks away, swims more towards the shallow side.

“What about you?” Negan asks, following him, “Are you going?” 

“I don’t know…” Rick says, and he sounds upset by the fact, “I don’t think I’d have a date since Jesus… you know.”

Negan nods.

“So go by yourself,” He shrugs, “It’s your last Prom, you’ll regret it if you don’t.”

“I don’t know…” Rick repeats, “Maybe.”

Negan tries for a friendly smile, “Well, if you change your mind, you can find me on the fucking dancefloor, tearing shit up, making everyone regret the day they were born, spiking the punch and shit.” 

Rick smiles back, small but appreciative, shaking his head fondly.

Just like Negan, he didn’t want to lose this friendship either.

-

When Negan drops Rick back off at his house, Jesus is there sitting on his front step, latched onto a cigarette like always.

Once he sees who it is accompanying Rick, he doesn’t look too happy.

“Where were you?” He asks Rick, stubbing his short cigarette with the heel of his boot as he waits for Rick to unlock the door, as Negan leaves reluctant and sour.

“I was at Negan’s,” Rick admits quietly.

“Why?” 

Rick shrugs, trying too hard to sound casual, “He invited me to go swimming.”

“You couldn’t say no?” Jesus scoffs.

“I didn’t  _ want _ to say no,” Rick says pointedly, without a look.

And then they both head into Rick’s room.

“Was he in here?” Jesus asks, scoping out the area like he can see the specks of Negan’s existence floating around in the air, “Did you let him in here?”

Rick sits on his bed, furrows his brows, annoyed, “Why does it matter? He’s just a friend, for-  _ Why _ are you going through my things??” He sighs, watching as Jesus scopes through his belongings.

“I know you have a picture of him somewhere here,” Jesus explains, “I don’t want you having it- I don’t want you  _ swimming _ with him, I don’t want you  _ talking _ to him,” Jesus grabs the note he gave Rick on Valentine’s Day, flicks it open and begins reading, that stank look on his face growing as he does so.

“Who the fuck gave you  _ this _ ?” He says, shoving the paper in Rick’s face, “It was him, wasn’t it? And you fucking kept it. You realize this is the same doof who punched me in the fucking face, right? The same doof you used to  _ fuck _ ?!”

Rick eyes him with confusion, deaf to those last words, thinking this has to be some sort of dumb joke, but no- Jesus looks pissed, genuinely infuriated.

“ _ You  _ gave that to me,” Rick says, “on Valentine’s Day.”

Suddenly Jesus simmers down, setting the note back down on Rick’s dresser.

“Oh yeah,” he says, and he takes a deep breath, scrubbing a hand over his beard before he plops down on Rick’s bed.

“Why are you so jealous?” He asks gently, going to lie by Jesus’ side, cuddling up into his chest, “You’re my boyfriend, there’s nothing to worry about.”

“Don’t call me that, Rick,” He says, and Rick feels the way his chest begins to calm down with the rise and fall and rise and fall, evening out. 

“Call you what? Jealous?”

“Your boyfriend,” He says firmly.

Rick pulls away, “But we’re- I man…. aren’t you?”

Jesus just shakes his head, a solid no.

“But we- we’ve been dating. We had  _ sex _ . I had sex with you..”

“Sex doesn’t mean anything these days, Rick. Thought you’d know that by now.”

“So what are you saying? That all this meant nothing to you??”

“It was just sex, Rick,” Jesus defends.

“Terrible fucking sex,” Rick adds, growing upset, “So you just  _ used _ me? You used me for sex??”

“I figured you knew that,” Jesus shrugs, “That’s what you’d been doing with Negan, wasn’t it? Just using each other for sex.”

Rick eyes him suspiciously, “How do you know about that?” 

“Everyone could tell, Rick,” Jesus chuckles,  lacking mirth as he shrugs, “Well… maybe not Negan.”

Rick grits his jaw, feeling guilt seep into him.

“Fuck you,” he says, sitting up, “I can’t- I can’t believe you! I thought you liked me- I… I actually thought you liked me.”

There’s a pause between them, some tension.

But then the long haired teenager sighs.

“I do like you, Rick,” Jesus assures, feigning sincerity for the punchline: “You have a nice ass.”

Rick tries to be upset, but he just laughs and shakes his head in disbelief, sounding absolutely on edge, but he lies back down besides Jesus.

“Face it, Rick. You like me for a reason just as shallow as mine is,” Jesus says, rolling onto his side to face Rick, taking the boy into his arms, “You don’t know what love is, baby.”

Rick lets his head fall on Jesus’ chest, and he tries to think of what it is that attracted him to Jesus in the first place.

The mystery, the hair, the unapologetic gayness, the abs… the hair.

And most of all the attention. It was the only attention Rick got from a boy who wasn’t Negan.

Maybe Rick didn’t really like Jesus, just the thought of him, and the thought of what they could’ve been.

“I don’t,” Rick agrees, and he thinks about Negan.

He hopes Negan doesn’t know what love is either. He hopes that Negan will get over it and stop hurting, that they can be friends again.

Maybe they weren’t really ever friends to begin with.

Maybe Negan does know what love is, but Rick is just too lost to feel it.

How can he feel it? How can Rick feel it?

“Have you ever been in love?” Rick asks, breaking their silence and looking up at Jesus.

“Nope…” Jesus answers easily, “and I don’t wanna be.”

Rick tries to work with that answer.

“What do you think it’s supposed to feel like?”

“Not too sure,” Jesus says, and he sounds like he’s actually thinking about it, “But I imagine it should be easy at first. Like, easy to be with that person. Then it gets hard- something always has to come up- but they still find a way to make it work. I don’t fucking know, Rick. I just think you should care about each other. Like, genuinely care.”

Rick bites the inside of his cheek. 

Jesus doesn’t care about him; it doesn’t hurt to think about, but it’s and eyeopener. 

“It wasn’t you who put all that stuff in my locker on Valentine’s Day, was it?”

Jesus sighs deeply, pauses.

“No,” he admits, finally.

Rick closes his eyes, presses his forehead back onto Jesus’ shoulder to brace himself for the answer that he can already predict.

“Who was it then?”

Jesus huffs a single breath of a laugh through his nose, slightly patronizing, slightly sorry.

“You know who it was.”

_ Yeah _ , Rick thinks,  _ I do. _

-

Rick spends a fair amount of time trying to deal with his new discovery.

It was Negan all this time...

But why didn’t he tell Rick?

The day after he found out, it was all he could think about.

Everytime he sees Negan at school, smiling at him with that underlying layer of longing in his somber brown eyes, all he can think is that Negan’s known this whole time that Jesus was taking credit for his doings, and he didn’t even try to say anything about it.

_ Why?  _

Negan’s quieter now- shy, almost- and maybe a little insecure.

His golden blond hair makes him look so young and frazzled. He doesn’t try to put a mask on anymore, doesn’t make a large display of his power and his masculinity.

Not because he doesn’t have power anymore, but because he’s so weak and withered that nearly nothing can fix it. But each day he looks a little less dim.

Maybe he does cope with corny jokes and lewd remarks, but Rick understands that he just needs something to keep from being strung too tight.

One day after school, Rick goes swimming at Negan’s again, and he can’t stop staring at Negan.

He sits on the cement ledge, the warmth of the sun's rays hitting his wet back, hair dripping onto his shoulders like his own personal rain cloud, and he watches as Negan tries to float on his back.

He watches the way his blond hair- shower cap free, green hair be damned- swishes underwater, the way the crinkly man-made waves twinkle with sunlight over Negan’s body as they distort it, and he absorbs the boy’s unbridled, inadvertent grace like his skin absorbs dangerous rays.

He thinks,  _ this boy loves me. _

He thinks,  _ what am I doing?  _

Until finally Negan whirls around, submerging himself completely underwater, and Rick looks away, staring down at his lap, watching his feet as he kicks them around in the water.

Then he hears the sounds of water breaking and sloshing around as Negan resurfaces right before Rick.

“Does the blond make me look tanner?” Negan asks, looking up at Rick and running his fingers through his hair, then looking down at his skin.

Rick chuckles, eyes skimming Negan’s face before he says, “No... but I think your tan makes you look tanner.”

“You’re a real fuckin’ smartass, Ricky,” Negan laughs, moving closer to the boy.

Almost on instinct, Rick spreads his legs wider, inviting Negan to stand between them.

Negan notices this and glances down at Rick’s lap, the playful look on his face falling away as he remembers everything: all the after school blowjobs and rimjobs and lazy afternoon treehouse fucks.

He could hook his fingers right into the waistband of Rick’s shorts right now and tug down until Rick’s naked in front of him. 

No ones home but them; he could take Rick’s dick in his hand, or in his mouth and make him cum.

If Rick didn’t have a boyfriend. If Negan didn’t know any better than to just give Rick his all and expect the least in return.

“It’s getting pretty cold,” Negan says finally, watching Rick shiver as a breeze blows in against his damp skin.

“Yeah…”

“Do you want me to take you home?”

“Okay,” Rick nods.

Together they get out of the pool, drying off to the best of their abilities with a couple of towels they left on the picnic table nearby before they head into Negan’s house.

They change in front of each other in Negan’s room, and still Rick can’t stop looking at Negan. He can almost feel how Negan is straining himself trying not to look over at Rick in case of temptation.

“Shit..” Rick mutters, making Negan turn his head towards the boy as he shrugs on a pair of sweatpants, “I forgot to bring my jeans..”

Negan swallows hard, trying to overlook Rick standing naked in his room, begging his eyes not to move below the neck as he says, “You didn’t bring… underwear either?”

“I wasn’t wearing any when I came here.”

Negan chokes on his own spit, “O-fucking-kay, um.. I think- I mean, I fucking know you left a pair of jeans here the night of that party. I think they’re somewhere under my fucking bed.”

Rick nods, chuckling despite himself.

Sure enough, Negan was right, and Rick finds a pair of beer stained, cigarette scented jeans underneath his bed.

“Found em!” Rick calls, and just as he raises his head, he’s being smacked in the face with a pair of tighty whities.

“Put those on first,” Negan says, laughing at the sight of his underwear on Rick’s face, “If you go commando in those filthy ass jeans you’ll probably get a dick infection or some shit.”

“I’ll take my chances,” Rick says as he grabs the fabric off his face, laughing along as he examines them, saying, “Wow, they’re actually white! No skidmarks… Guess it’s my lucky day.”

Negan breaks out in a wheeze and Rick throws the underwear back at him, “Fuck you, Rick… God, just… fuck you. Mark my goddamn words, never will I ever let you near my fucking tighty whities again.”

Rick giggles back at that, and then they finish getting dressed so Negan can drop Rick off at his house.

-

Rick sent out some invitations for graduation a while ago. Among many people, he sent one to his Mom. 

They don’t talk too much nowadays; his mother doesn’t text him or call him.

She’ll send birthday cards around the date and sometimes cards for other holidays, but other than that, they don’t speak much.

Rick hardly expects her to come to his graduation, and he’s okay with that even if he is just slightly saddened. He understands why his Mom doesn’t want to come back here, and he would never make her or hold a grudge against her for that.

But when he gets a letter in the mail from her, just one week from the day he sent out the invitation, he gets his hopes up a little bit.

He lays on his bed, belly side down, and tries to calm the nerves inside of him as he tears open the envelope.

The first thing he pulls out is a letter, written on yellow paper that makes those standard turquoise lines look a whole lot brighter.

_ Ricky,  _

_ I can’t wait to see you graduate high school. You’re so grown up now. I can’t believe I missed watching you grow, but I’m more than happy just to know that you have. _

_ When I had you with me, in our beat up little car, driving everywhere and never settling, I was afraid that you would never go to school again.  _

_ Now you’re finishing it and I’m so proud of you. I know you’re smart, but school is harder in more ways than just academics. Be proud of yourself. _

_ I should’ve tried to see you more, but I was hurt. I needed a break. I’m getting older now, and everything is falling into place so fast, like how I wanted it to be when I was twenty. Only now I don’t have to force it, it just happens and I let it be. _

_ I want you to come to school in California, Ricky. I want you to be here with me in the same city while you start this new chapter of your life, and I start this new chapter of my own. _

_ I want you to meet Janet. _

_ Love, _

_ Mom. _

Rick furrows his brows. Who the hell is Janet?

But then he notices another slip of paper inside of the envelope, this one thicker, more official.

When he gets his hands around it and pulls it out, he finds out it's a wedding invitation, and Janet is his Mother’s fiancé.

But despite the good news, there’s only one thing he can focus on.

His Mom is coming to his graduation and she wants him to go back with her to California.

Rick’s pulled out of his daze by the sound of his phone dinging with a text message, and when he checks who it’s from, his stomach sinks because it's the first person that came to his mind after he’d read the letter.

_ ‘U wanna come n swim??’  _ Negan asks.

Rick sighs, looks down at his sunburned and peeling skin and finds an out.

‘ _ Not today :( bad sunburn’  _ He replies, and then shoves his phone far away. 

How is he going to tell Negan this? 

He thinks maybe it won’t be such a big deal since they’ll be out of school by the time he leaves. And maybe now that they’re older and now that they’ll actually have a chance to say goodbye, it won’t be so bad.

But as Rick starts to feel his own chest begin to ache and his own anxiety begin to knit in his head, he knows that it is a big deal, and it can be just as bad no matter the age.

-

Rick hasn’t been to school in two days, and Negan’s starting to worry because it's not like Rick to be absent without at least saying something.

And on top of that, he’s not answering any of Negan  _ or _ Lucille’s texts or calls.

Negan figures it’ll be a third day without him, but he’s delightfully surprised when Rick walks into their first period just before the tardy bell, looking utterly disheveled.

“Look who finally decided to show up,” Negan says, smiling like a fool as Rick takes his seat beside him, “it’s about fuckin’ time!” 

Rick tries to mirror the look, but seeing Negan only reminds him of why he was gone.

“Sorry,” Rick mutters with a crooked smile, scratching through his hair as he looks over at Negan, “I haven’t been.. I’ve been, I don’t know… just thinking.”

Suddenly Negan is strife and serious, full of concern at the sight of Rick’s distress.

“About what?” He asks, “You okay?”

Rick swallows deeply, bites at the inside of his lip that has come to be raw and abused over the last couple of days, “Yeah, I’m okay.”

“Why didn’t you come to school these past few days?”

“I just- I didn’t…” Rick sighs, comes up with a fib, “Jesus and I, we.. we broke up.”

Negan blinks, taken aback, “Oh… I’m- I’m… sorry?”

Rick huffs a short laugh, “You don’t have to be. We didn’t love each other, or anything like that.”

Negan goes quiet, and that’s the end of their conversation then.

But as the day goes on, Negan finds that every conversation they have is short and clipped and laden with that uneasy energy that Rick seems to be bathing in.

Negan wants to help him, but he doesn’t know how. He’s never really had a bad breakup before, so he just stays quiet and tries to just be by Rick’s side, and not seem too jolly about he and Jesus splitting.

In their culinary class towards the end of the day, Rick is wrought up tight, like he wants to say something, like he’s working up the nerve even though he seems to have more than enough already.

Negan’s wary to leave Rick on knife duty, but thinks maybe Rick mincing the shit out of garlic might help him blow off some steam.

However, he is sadly mistaken when he turns his back away to measure out some herbs, and hears the sound of a knife clattering against a cutting board and Rick hissing out, “ _ Ow!ow!ow!ow!ow!” _

Negan whips his attention towards Rick, sees him clutching his bleeding finger, and panics a little bit.

The only other group in the kitchen watches in amusement as Negan hurries towards the first aid kit and then back towards Rick to nurse him.

“Here,” Negan says, guiding Rick towards the sink to run his minor wound under some water as he looks through the first aid kit.

Rick hisses again, “I don’t know why it stings so much.”

Negan wraps Rick’s fingers in a clean towel, pressing lightly, “I think it’s ‘cause garlic is anti-Semitic.”

Rick honks out a laugh and it's the most lighthearted sound Negan has heard from Rick all day, maybe even all week.

“You mean anti-septic?”

Negan unwraps a bandaid, fits it to the curves of Rick’s finger.

“Oh… that too.”

Rick grins, shaking his head fondly, and he looks up at Negan, who’s occupied with Rick’s finger, smiling down at the digit before he finally sets it free.

Then Negan meets Rick’s eyes, smile still potent, but Rick’s own shys away, and he looks down because all he can think about is how this stupid blond boy loves him- bandaged his finger and made him a flower pot and wrote him a love letter.

He feels warmth rise from his gut and lather his throat. 

It feels nice, even if it’s foreign, even if Rick’s so unaccustomed to love and care that it feels uncomfortable.

Rick could get used to this.

The bell rings for the next class, and as the other group clears out, Rick and Negan stay.

Negan moves to pack up the first aid kit, and Rick looks down at his finger again.

“Why didn’t you tell me you put all that stuff in my locker on Valentine’s Day?” Rick asks, and it splits the air almost.

Rick isn’t looking, but he can hear Negan stop moving, can hear the rustling of all the things he’s touching come to a halt.

Then Rick hears Negan turn towards him, and he looks up to meet the blond’s eyes.

Negan goes from fishmouth to actual laughter in half a second, and Rick doesn’t understand why.

“Why are you laughing?” Rick says sternly, “It’s not funny.”

That knocks Negan’s manic grin off his face, leaving him vulnerable once again, searching for something to hide behind.

“How’d you find out?” Negan asks, voice small.

“Jesus,” Rick says simply, then repeats, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Negan just shakes his head, huffs another strung out laugh, looking up at Rick for just a second with fleeting eyes before he looks back down and shakes his head again.

Rick rolls his eyes. 

_ What is he shaking his head for? _

“Can you just tell me?”

Negan bites at his lip, shrugs his shoulders as he crosses his arms, before he completely moves out of his stiff body and walks to the corner of the kitchen, taking off his apron and his smock and stashing them away before he grabs for his backpack.

As he slings it over his shoulder, ready to jet, Rick blurts out, “I’m going back to California-” so tight and sporadic, and Negan stops in his tracks yet again.

He turns around, facing Rick.

“What…?” 

“I’m going back to California,” Rick repeats.

Negan lets out a noise that’s half scoff, half sigh, and all defeat, “Wh-When? When are you leaving?”

Rick gives him an apologetic look. He feels like that’s all he can do.

“I don’t know. After graduation, maybe?”

Negan blinks. It feels surreal.

“Is this the real reason you weren’t here these past days?”

Rick nods, “Yeah. But Jesus and I really did break up. It was just… a long time ago.”

Negan’s brow wrinkles, smiling sadly and trying to keep his composure though his eyes are welling up.

“So you completely fucking wasted two precious fucking days we could’ve spent being together before you leave?”

Rick smiles back, but it wavers, too, growing watery.

“I didn’t- I just didn’t know how to tell you.”

Negan rolls his eyes fondly, and a tear escapes, “As soon as possible would’ve been fucking nice.”

“Don’t cry,” Rick comforts, nearly begs, but he feels himself begin to cry as he says it, voice weak, “We still.. we still have a lot of time.”

Negan drops his backpack onto the floor without a care and makes his way to Rick.

“We have a fucking month,” Negan says, pulling Rick into a hug, pressing the boy tight against him, “And it could’ve been a month and two fucking days.”

“M’sorry,” Rick mumbles into Negan's shoulder.

“S’okay,” Negan sighs into Rick’s hair.

When they pull away and Negan sees Rick’s eyes so wet and blue, lined with red, all he wants to do is wipe away his tears and kiss him.

He finds he can only wipe away his tears, and he decides that’s good enough as he swipes a thumb across Rick’s cheek, grazing skin and staring longingly at a pair of rosy soft lips.

Rick does the same for him, and Negan leans into the touch.

Soon they leave out of the culinary room and head towards their lockers for the end of the day, walking slow like it’ll stretch time, still sniffling and wiping their noses and rubbing their eyes.

“So why didn’t you tell me?” Rick asks yet again, still craving an answer as he shuts his locker, Negan leaning against it.

The teen sighs, knocking his knuckles uselessly against the colored metal.

“I tried so much shit to get you to consider me, and none of it worked. I figured if you knew it was me that it would just be another fucking kick to my stupid humiliated ass, and it would’ve been a lost cause. I didn’t think I could handle being so fucking embarrassed.”

Rick offers a warm smile, “I’m the one who’s embarrassed. Can’t believe I thought Jesus would ever do something like that for me.”

Negan grins crookedly, “Yeah, me either.”

Rick shoves at his shoulder, smirks.

“So, you made the flower pot?”

“Yup.”

Rick smiles, walking shoulder to shoulder with Negan out of the school, “How long did it take you?”

“Maybe a week,” Negan says, “Fucked off in the art room after school a couple times while you were at track practice just farting around training for gold medals and shit.”

Rick shakes his head, “Well you did a good job. All the hand painted hearts were a real nice touch.”

“Thanks,” Negan grins, “Lucille thought so, too.”

They board Negan’s truck, and although neither of them have mentioned it yet, they both know they’ll somehow be spending the rest of their day together.

They start with just cruising around mindlessly.

“So California?” Negan says, tight lipped and curious, “How did that happen?”

“My mom’s getting married. She wants me to go to the wedding and maybe start college over there.”

“Do  _ you _ wanna start college over there?”

“I’ve been thinking about it,” Rick says, “Just to see my mom… and to be somewhere different. But I don’t know, I don’t really know what I want to do. Everything seems like a good possibility. You?”

Negan grasps tightly onto the steering wheel with just one hand, the other scratching at the soft cotton of his faded pants, “I don’t know what I want to do either. No idea. My dad said I should try my hand at auto mechanics but I’m no fucking handyman. I can barely fucking walk straight sometimes. My mom suggested trying to make something out of skateboarding, but I can’t see it as anything more than a hobby.”

“That’s okay,” Rick says, looking out the window at the town passing by them, at all the liveliness. 

He thinks there’s no way every single person out there knows exactly what they’re doing with their life, but somehow it all works out and they all fit perfectly here they are for now. Almost picturesque. “Something will find you,” He tells him.

Negan looks over at Rick, but Rick is still looking out of the window.

When a familiar sign catches Rick’s eye, that’s when he finally turns.

“Creme Cup?” He asks, voice littered with excitement.

Negan spares him another glance, smile teasing at his lips as he takes in Rick’s face.

He says nothing, but takes the detour, much to Rick’s enjoyment.

At Creme Cup, Dwight takes their order with a delighted smirk, side eyeing Negan with a smug look, like he knew they couldn’t be apart long.

And he’s right: they can’t. They always somehow find a way to be close to each other again.

So as they sit together in that old familiar booth by the window, Negan eyes Rick and fiddles with his straw, occasionally sipping but mostly wondering how it's gonna be with Rick gone again.

-

“You wanna come inside?”

Again Negan is faced with that Sex and The City style of reading between the lines, and he feels like Sarah Jessica Parker, blond and sexy and overanalyzing the steps of his potential lover.

“Rick…” Negan begins, growing antsy as he stands on Rick’s porch, “I know you’re… that you’re leaving soon, but that doesn’t mean we’re gonna start fucking again. I don’t want that to be all we do again-”

Rick rolls his eyes, “I asked if you wanna come in, not if you wanna have sex, Negan,” he tacks on a teasing smirk, “Is that all you think about?”

He opens up the door and heads inside. Negan follows close behind all the way to his room, admittedly watching Rick’s ass with intent, “Well yeah… I’m an eighteen year old bitch with a dick like steel. And I haven’t fucked in weeks.”

“Well congratulations…” Rick says, sitting atop his bed and moving to lie down, looking up at Negan, “How long has it been since you’ve actually  _ slept _ with someone?”

Negan follows Rick’s lead, cautiously lies beside him.

“Like nap slept?”

“Well, yeah.”

“Too long.”

With that said, Rick turns onto his side, facing Negan again.

“Big spoon or little spoon?”

Negan breaks into a shy grin, “Little.”

“Dammit,” Rick curses, but then shrugs, wrapping his arms around Negan and tugging him flush against himself, “You’re too long.”

“That’s what she said.”

Rick lets out a suffered sigh, but laughs, wrapping his arms tighter around Negan as he says, “You're my best friend.”

Negan snuggles deeper into Rick’s chest, letting out a placid breath.

“You already know how I feel about you, Rick.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank yall for reading i suspect maybe one to two chapters left... maybe three?? idk its realy a gamble here cuz i never prewrite the endings to my fics so... youll know when i know <333  
> love u guys and as always, feedback n constructive criticism is more than welcome :)


	21. Periwinkle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> that one prom chapter that only vaguely mentions prom

Rick doesn’t remember that night of the party, but to be fair he hasn’t really tried to remember.

All he can recall is jealousy and alcohol and being in Negan’s lap.

And all he has is a musty pair of jeans to remind him of everything.

That and something else.

One day Rick is doing his laundry at Negan’s house, and everything goes normal up until the dry cycle.

Then something starts spinning around, clinking and clashing and making all sorts of noise.

He figures he should get whatever it is out before he breaks Negan’s dryer, so there he is, rifling through his damp and slightly warm clothes, searching for the noisy culprit.

What he finds is a red glass stone, shaped like a heart and transparent so that Rick can see the lines of his palm through where it lay.

His first thought is  _ Where is this from?  _ and his second thought is more of a feeling rather than a thought.

He rolls the stone around in his hands and his shoulders relax, and his mind remembers.

That’s the feeling, almost like realization but not as certain.

“Fucking geez, what was that noise?” Negan asks, sauntering into the laundry room and rubbing a hand over his tanned face, voice full of sleep, “You keeping bricks in your fucking pockets, or what?”

Rick smiles, but doesn’t laugh, hides his stone wielding fist behind his back.

Negan notices and follows Rick’s motions with his eyes.

“What do you have in your hand?”

Rick’s smile widens.

“Close your eyes and I’ll give it to ya.”

“I swear to God, Rick, if it’s a bug I’ll fucking drop kick your ass right here, right fuckin’ now. You know how I fucking feel about bugs, Blue.”

Rick rolls his eyes fondly, sighs, “Just.. close your eyes.”

Negan obliges, albeit warily, closing his eyes and sticking a tentative hand out.

Rick places the stone in his palm, touch lingering as Negan sheepishly yearns for more contact.

When it's over, Negan opens his eyes, sees the small object in his palm, and he blushes with embarrassment.

He huffs a laugh, “Huh.. Do you- do you remember: what happened when I gave this to you?”

Rick smiles, head tilting to the side as he nods.

“Yeah,” he says, and he can almost smell the grass stains as they were born, can almost hear the police sirens and the blaring music. Hell, he almost even feels drunk again. But maybe that’s just because he’s with Negan- and he can’t help when his eyes slip down towards Negan’s lips.

He remembers kisses afterwards- gentle, gentle kisses- and fingers intertwined in dirt, sitting in bushes.

Rick realizes he likes gentle now. 

Gentle is good. It’s so easy to be rough, or to be abrasive.

Negan taught him what gentleness was.

-

Spring has been in the air for quite some time and it feels good. 

But then again, everything feels good when Negan disregards his impending doom.

He’s graduating soon, he doesn’t know what he’s gonna do after high school, college is too expensive to be spent lollygagging or just dipping his toe in the water, and to top it all off, Rick is leaving soon.

What’s next? Is the world gonna take Lucille from him, too? 

He curses himself, doesn’t want to jinx it because at this point it seems anything is possible- and not in a good way.

There’s so much on his back, but he ignores it even though he knows that’ll do more harm than good. He figures whatever happens will happen, and he shouldn’t let his stress take away from his limited time left with Rick.

And that time is good, good time no matter what  what they’re doing.

Sometimes they’ll just go all around town driving in Negan’s car with Lucille, laughing so hard and being so loud and obnoxious and drinking bright blue slushees that give them scream inducing brain freezes, and then sometimes they don’t feel like doing anything but staying in bed because it's so cozy and they’re so tired from school and drained from thinking too hard on the future. So they cuddle in close and fall asleep for hours on end, or they roll into their respective spaces, just snoring and snoring and snoring and then waking up finally only to eat and talk to each other about how good their sleep was over grilled cheese.

Right now they’re lying in the depths of Negan’s backyard, lounging on a patch of burr-free grass and tiny little springtime flowers.

Rick has a lady bug crawling around the length of his finger as he twirls the digit around, never losing sight of the critter, lying peacefully on his back and humming his favorite song.

Negan’s lying on his side, no doubt getting grass stains on his shirt, and plucking flowers out from the ground just to put them in Rick’s hair, dressing the boy’s curls with the smallest little periwinkle colored wildflowers.

Rick is unbothered by it, too entranced by the bug crawling on his skin to notice.

They lie in peace until Negan runs out of flowers to garnish Rick with, and that’s when Negan just stares at Rick, taking in his work and smiling as he takes both a mental picture with his mind and memory, and then a digital picture with just his phone.

Then he lies down on his back, shoulder to shoulder with Rick, and listens to him hum.

It’s not some passing tune, Negan notices after a while, it has more of a pattern- which prompts him to ask, “What song is that? The one you’re humming?”

Rick stops humming to speak.

“Oh, it’s um, this old song… by Led Zeppelin.”

“ _ You  _ listen to Led Zeppelin? Who put you onto that? Jesus?”

Rick rolls his eyes, but is entertained, “No, you jerk, I found it on my own.” 

“You?? Rick ‘I sold my soul to Mazzy Star and Radiohead and Sufjan Stevens’ Grimes?”

“You're one to talk,” Rick grins, looking slyly past his shoulder at Negan, “Aren’t you the one who cried to me about Asleep by the Smiths yesterday before our nap and then listened to Work Bitch by Britney Spears  _ twice _ before you actually fell asleep.”

“Doesn’t ring a bell,” Negan jokes, smirking as he rolls onto his belly, eyes on Rick, “So..? What’s the song, Blue?”

Rick turns his head away from Negan, staring up into the sky and squinting at the sun, ladybug gone somewhere in the grass by now.

“It’s called Going to California…” Rick confesses sheepishly.

Negan feels his gut become coated with sadness, so sudden and quick.

“Hmm… That’s fitting, I guess.”

“Yeah,” Rick says, tone dampened. He turns his head back towards Negan, and Negan looks up at him, staring into his earnest and gentle eyes as he’s asked, “Do you still want to hear it?”

Negan gives a small smile.

“Yeah, sure.”

Then Rick is pulling out his phone, and soon a song is playing, cutting through the soft sounds of the breezy afternoon.

Negan was expecting something heavy and full of testosterone, like a ballsack but in music form- typical of Led Zeppelin.

What he gets is something with chime and melody, full of layers, some somber and some desperate and aching.

Negan catches a few lines:  _ Made up my mind, make a new start. Going to California with an aching in my heart _ \- and he meditates on them.

What kind of aching does Rick feel when he thinks about leaving? And does it reach the extent of Negan’s own? 

“This line reminds me of my Mom,” Rick says, and Negan hones in again.

_ Someone told me there’s a girl out there, with love in her eyes and flowers in her hair. _

Then he smiles, and thinks that must be right. A flower lady giving birth to a sweet flower boy, and Negan is blessed enough to have known him, to have put those flowers in his hair for him.

“I kinda wanna kiss you right now, Rick,” Negan admits when the song is over, and he and Rick are staring helplessly into each other’s eyes.

He knew it would break their moment, but he had to say it.

Rick’s gaze flicks down to Negan’s lips, oozing out desire, but all he can do is give a sorry smile. 

Negan thinks it's a sorry like  _ sorry, I can’t _ , but really it's more like,  _ Sorry, I’m scared _ or  _ Sorry, I’m not ready yet. _

Rick kinda wants to kiss him, too. He remembers how it felt, Negan’s lips so gentle and sweet on his, and he wants to be kissed by him again.

“Come on,” Rick says, hand on Negan’s forearm, “Let’s go lie on the hammock.”

Negan could dwell on his own feelings, or he could let it be and just focus on being Rick’s friend and enjoying the rest of their time together.

“Okay,” Negan says as Rick helps him get off the ground.

And that’s how Lucille finds them, asleep together on a hammock set up between two trees, shaded by the green leaves and the blossoms that are shedding petals that fall like the laziest, slowest rainfall ever known to man.

Yeah, it's cute…. almost too cute.

“How come everytime you guys invite me over, I get here and you’re fucking sleeping?” She speaks loudly, startling the two boys back to consciousness.

Negan groans, tired eyes squinting up at Lucille, “I don’t know, maybe it's because we get so fucking tired from waiting on you while you take your sweet fucking time! What were you even doing anyways? Getting your ass shaved for Prom?”

“Yeah, your girlfriend shaved my ass for me,” Lucille retorts.

“Jokes on you, I don’t have a girlfriend, asshole.”

“Yeah, me either…” Lucille says, shrugging, “Now move over.”

As soon as she says it, Negan and Rick freeze with fear, suddenly feeling the fragility of the hammock as they yell out their frantic protests.

But it's too late and Lucille dog piles herself onto the boys, and something snaps, sending them all to the ground.

The initial shock has them silent, but as they lay on the floor, looking around at each other with wide eyes, they can’t help but laugh.

“Lucille can you, can you  _ please _ get your ass off of my knee?” Rick says, shaking with laughter.

“... Can you  _ please _ get your knee out of my ass, maybe?”

-

Tomorrow's Prom so today they’re all sleeping over at Negan’s.

Negan would already consider the three of them pretty close after everything that has happened in these past few months, but something about breaking a hammock together really solidified their unity, and Negan wants to find a way to immortalize that.

And what better way to immortalize that than tattoos?

Technically they’re all old enough to head off to a parlor and get whatever they want done, but despite their age, they don’t quite have the financial ability to do such a thing.

What they do have however, is some left over Indian ink and sewing needles that can be sanitized to sufficiency, and an  _ insanely _ creative idea for matching tattoos.

“Why don’t we all just get the word  _ friends _ tattooed somewhere on our bodies?” Negan suggests, “That fucking simple.”

Rick and Lucille exchange a look, then turn back to Negan.

“I don’t have any better ideas.”

Rick shrugs, “I’m okay with that.”

So it begins.

Lucille gets hers on the inside of her finger, does it herself without any fear, even though the letters do look a little shaky.

Negan gets his on his left pec, and has to get Lucille to do it because Rick couldn’t be bothered with the idea of repeatedly sticking someone in the chest with a needle.

And when it came time for Rick, and Lucille and Negan asked where he wanted his, they both choked when he said, unbothered, “My ass.”

“What?” Rick says, flushing as Lucille and Negan double over onto the bed in tears, their laughter so full of shock, “It’s the most private place! My mom’ll kick my ass if she sees me with a tattoo.”

“There’s no way in hell I’m getting up close and personal with your ass,” Lucille says, stifling laughter still, “I think this is a job for the Neegster.”

Negan shrugs, already threading another needle, “Ain’t nothing I’ve never seen before,” Negan looks over at Rick, smirking softly, “Now drop those pants and bend over the bed, cowboy.”

Lucille fake gags, “I think I’m gonna be fucking sick,” she says, watching as Rick slides his pants mostly down his hips before she gasps, “Aw, Rick! You have a cute butt!”

“Told you,” Negan chimes, steadying his hand against the firm flesh of Rick’s asscheek, already breaking at his skin.

“Kill me…” Rick says, hiding his flushed face in the mattress of Negan’s bed.

Negan smiles to himself.

When he pictured himself being faced with Rick’s ass again, these definitely weren’t the circumstances he’d imagined. But it's still just as good.

Negan finishes up Rick’s tattoo and bandages it up, finally letting the boy pull up his pants.

Later in the night, in the wee hours of the morning, after having watched several documentaries on Netflix, the three of them fall asleep on one bed.

Negan’s wedged between Lucille and Rick, and the girl is snoring like she’s never snored before.

Rick is wrapped in Negan’s arms, the two boys squished together as Lucille takes up all the room.

“My ass stings,” Rick whispers.

Negan chuckles quietly, “Yeah?” He says, voice a gruff, sleepy purr that resonates in Rick.

“Yeah,” Rick says, and he suddenly grows bold, grinding back against Negan’s lap. He thinks maybe this is one way he can show Negan he  _ is _ interested in him.

Instantly, Negan lets out a gasp and his jaw drops, hips twitching as he instinctively reaches out to clutch at Rick’s side.

“Rick…” Negan says, voice tight and desperate as he swallows hard, “Don’t do this. Please, Blue. I can’t fucking control myself around you sometimes.”

Hearing Negan so taut and so torn, Rick feels embarrassed now, ashamed as his boldness flies out of the window.

“I’m sorry,” Rick says, “I don’t… I don’t know why I did that.”

But he does know.

And Negan thinks he did it for all the reasons he used to do it in the past.

He sighs out, “I forgive you,” he says, pulling Rick closer, “Let’s just go to sleep, alright.”

Rick nods, humming, “Okay.”

“...And by the way, if you wake up and feel my hard-on between your cheeks, it wasn’t you… it was you  _ and _ me.”

Rick chuckles, “Maybe this will help that,” He says, turning in Negan’s arms so that he’s facing the boy’s chest, “Now I’ll just feel it on my leg.”

Negan smirks.

“Whatever rocks your boat, Ricky,” he says before  he lets his eyes fall shut.

-

Negan wakes up some time past noon, and Rick is still drooling on his chest.

Lucille is gone, but he can hear her in the kitchen making conversation with his parents.

With all the new space, Negan rolls away from Rick to maybe give the boy some room to drool on something that isn’t a person.

But as soon as he moves away, Rick is rolling right back into him, arms winding around Negan’s middle like a vice.

“Rick.”

Rick hums, still asleep.

“Rick, wake up.”

He lets out a groan now, breaking unconsciousness.

“Ricky get off of me, you won’t stop fucking drooling!”

Rick pushes himself off of Negan, finally sitting up.

“Don’t act like you don’t like it,” he teases half heartedly, slurring as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.

“I’d prefer it if you only drooled over me figuratively speaking. Literally; not so fuckin’ much.”

“Take what you can get, skater boy.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Negan sighs.

Rick turns onto his side, away from Negan, and before things can get awkward, Lucille returns, walking through the door with hot rollers setting in her hair like some vintage movie star.

She catches sight of them still lying in bed, and immediately decides she won’t have it.

“Get your asses up and moving, you sorry sluts! It’s Prom day, for fucks sake!”

-

This isn’t Negan’s first Rodeo... 

He’s been going to Prom since Freshman year, and they’ve all been very boring and very stiff. Every year, the same suit, the same music, the same stunted small talk and boring dates.

This year, Lucille and Rick are his dates, which is already very promising, but with this being his and and Lucille’s last Prom, and Rick’s first  _ and _ last Prom, Negan isn’t taking any chances.

This  _ has _ to be the best Prom night ever.

“You got the USB?” Negan asks Lucille, as their boarding Negan’s mustang.

“Yup,” she says, “You bring the vodka?”

Negan smirks, “Do you even know me, Lucy?”

Lucille rolls her eyes, and Rick sighs.

“We’re gonna get kicked out.”

“Thank me later, Ricky. Prom’s never fun when you’re there for more than two hours. Especially when you’re sober.”

Later in the evening, this proves to be right.

They arrive through an unauthorized entrance at the hotel that’s hosting their Prom, and see their friends: everyone from Michonne and Glenn and Maggie and Andrea to Tara and Rosita and Beth and Abraham. 

That’s the fun part, seeing your friends and fawning over how good they look and saying hi to them. That, and going through the candy bar.

After that, everything becomes a drag.

And once it becomes a drag, that’s when you break out the flask of vodka.

Negan wasn’t about to spike the entire punch bowl, though. He knows not everyone wants to get drunk on Prom night, and he can only sneak so much into a flask.

So he, Lucille, and Rick get their respective cups and spike their own drinks.

More for them, they figure.

And thirty minutes later, one flask full of vodka down the drain, they’re soaked in liquid confidence.

“Lucille!” Negan calls though she’s right next to him, “Lucy, Lucy, Lucy!! He’s gone, he’s fucking gone, the DJs fucking gone- go! GO!!”

“I’m going, I’m going, just wait!” She whines as she takes off her heels, “Here Rick,” she says, handing her shoes to the boy, “Hold these.”

Rick takes them easily, and together he and Negan watch as Lucille sneaks up into the DJs stage, laughing as they see her struggle for the USB buried somewhere in the pits of her bra.

But she gets it done, and soon their homemade Prom playlist is on, and Lucille is racing down the steps off the stage, removing them from the edge of the elevated platform and hiding them far behind the bleachers so that no one can get back on and stop the music for a good while.

And then she’s running barefoot back towards Rick and Negan, getting lost in the sea of students as they whoop victoriously, shaking her with pride and with hype at their fruitful mission.

Now all that’s left is to dance and have fun for as long as they can before they get figured out.

And everything is fine and dandy and oh so high, until a slow song comes on- a song Negan himself had asked Lucille to sneak onto the playlist.

Ever since he thought about asking Rick to Prom, Negan began daydreaming on the possibilities of Rick saying yes. Of them dancing together, fast and slow.

But when he imagined it slow, he imagined this song accompanying them. 

Lucille knows this, remembers this even while she’s drunk, and so she runs off to give them some alone time, picking a girl up from the line of wallflowers and choosing her to dance with like it’s nothing. 

“Do you wanna... dance with me?” Negan asks stupidly.

Rick smirks, soft and inebriated, as he snakes his arms around Negan’s shoulders, “I thought we already were.”

Negan huffs a gentle laugh, smiling easily as he looks lazily into Rick’s eyes, moving his hands to lay on Rick’s hips as they sway to the song.

_ I don't wanna change your mind _ _  
_

_ I don't wanna change the world _ _  
_

_ I just wanna watch it go by _ _  
_

_ I just wanna watch you go by _ _  
_

_ We were young, darling _ _  
_

_ We don’t have no control _ _  
_

_ We’re out of control _ _  
_

_ I don't wanna do it your way _ _  
_

_ I don't wanna do it your way _ _  
_

_ I don't wanna give it to you, your way _ _  
_

_ I don't want to know _ _  
_

_ I don't wanna change your mind _ _  
_

_ I don't wanna waste your time _ _  
_

_ I just wanna know you're alright _ _  
_

_ I've got to know you're alright _ _  
_

_ You are young, darling. _

_ For now, but not for long. _

By the time the song is over, Rick has his head on Negan’s shoulder, eyes closed peacefully like he doesn’t ever want to move from that space.

They leave soon after that- and surprisingly not because they got kicked out.

Lucille stays, too busy having fun, but promises she’ll meet up with them later.

“We should get a hotel room,” Rick suggests while they wait in the lobby, Negan just about to pull out his phone to call his parents.

He stares dumbly at Rick for a second, then says, ever the eloquent one, “What?” 

“We’re both kind of drunk,” Rick says observantly, “ and your car is still here. Maybe we should just get a room and leave in the morning. It's safer.”

“O-okay,” Negan nods, pocketing his phone.

But as they’re getting a room, and Rick answers ‘ _ One _ ’ to the question “How many beds?” Negan can’t help but feel a bit of panic rise.

He’s not sure why. They’ve slept in a bed together before. Many times, actually. It's nothing new.

But the last time they were slept in the same bed together in a hotel room, things changed between them forever.

Call Negan superstitious, but he doesn’t see why this time can’t be the same, and that thought alone frightens him. 

The walk from the lobby to their room is long and thick, but only to Negan.

And as Rick begins to undress the second the door is shut, Negan only grows more suspicious.

“Can you help me?” Rick asks, hands fumbling at his neck tie, pants around his ankles, “I swear I’m not that drunk, I just… yeah.”

Negan saunters closer, “You just want to get me right where you want me, huh?” His voice is bitter and his hands are quick, taking Rick’s tie and tossing it onto a nearby chair.

Then he turns away from Rick and begins to strip as well, dodging the calculating look on Rick’s face.

When they slip into bed together, Negan has his mind set on going to sleep and making it through the night with his hands to himself.

Rick seems to have other plans.

As he turns to face the other side, burrowing himself deep into the duvet, Rick calls out.

“Don’t go to sleep, Negan!”

“Rick,” Negan sighs, “I’m fucking tired, okay? Let me sleep.”

“But I wanna spend some time with you,” Rick urges, piling onto Negan’s back, “C’mon, let's watch a movie or something.” 

Negan turns quickly to face Rick, knocking the boy off of him, “Do you remember what happened last time we watched a stupid fucking movie together in a hotel? In the same fucking bed?” He snaps, exasperatedly, “Do you??”

Rick goes quiet- sheepish, even. 

Then he nods, murmuring, “You kissed me.”

“We started  _ practicing _ , then you started using me to learn how to fuck your stupid fake boyfriend, and I fell in love with you and had a nervous fucking breakdown and almost  _ killed _ that stupid fucking fake boyfriend…. That’s more like it.”

Rick turns away from Negan, lying flat on his back, and staring up at the ceiling.

“Are you still in love with me?” He asks, tone cautious but still curious, almost scared to ask due to Negan’s harshness.

Negan doesn’t answer for a while, doesn’t breathe for a good moment.

But then he does, and along with the air comes his answer.

“You think something like that just goes away...?”

“No,” Rick says honestly, shaking his head, craning his neck to look at the boy, “But I do think maybe it's something that just... comes to you. The realization, at least.”

Negan quirks a brow, “What do you mean? What are you saying?”

“I love you, Negan.”

Everything goes quiet, and Negan becomes conflicted.

This is all he’s wanted to hear, but it seems just too good to be true.

“You’re… you’re drunk, Rick. Let’s just go to sleep.”

“I’m not that drunk, okay? I know what I’m saying, Negan and I want to say it. I want you to know, I’m in love with you,” he states, loud and clear, “I’ve been in love with you since I was thirteen years old and I couldn’t fucking see it- I refused to see it- but now I can, he gazes softly into Negan’s eyes, “Now I can face it.”

It takes Negan a while to comprehend, maybe because of the alcohol or maybe because Rick’s words have him in utter shock, but Negan can’t speak right now.

But when he does find his tongue, the first thing he says is “I love you, too, Blue.”

Rick breathes out in relief, a shaky exhale surrounded by a smile, and then he turns into Negan, invading the boy’s space and letting their lips joins in a soft kiss, a marrying rhythm where Rick’s nose stabs at Negan’s cheek, and Rick’s tongue tries and succeeds at slipping smoothly into Negan’s mouth.

Rick moves the covers off of Negan’s half naked body, saddling up to straddle the boy’s hips.

“Touch me,” Rick says, grinding down against Negan’s groin and grabbing the boy’s hands, bringing them up to his waist, begging them to hold at his sides, “I want you to touch me.”

Negan looks up at the boy on top of him. It feels good and familiar. But it's the familiarity that scares him. 

“Tell me that’s not all this is,” Negan swallows, looking up at Negan with wary pain in his warm brown eyes.

Rick feels his heart clench.

“That’s not all this is, baby,” Rick assures, voice soft as he leans forward, peppering kisses against the side of Negan’s neck, up until he reaches the shell of Negan’s ear, whispering, “I wanna make love to you. I promise.”

Negan sighs, a sound of relief and of reassurance.

“Okay,” he says softly, nodding- and the kissing resumes for who knows how long.

They would’ve kissed for years if they had a say in how the world is run.

Then Rick sends those kiss swollen lips down Negan’s stomach, sucking dark, greedy marks into the lines of his hips and the flesh just below his navel, making the blond boy squirm and whine.

“Let’s see if the carpet matches the drapes, eh?” Rick jokes, cheesily winking up at Negan as he tugs down the boy’s tented boxers, a blushing cock springing up from a bushel of dark hair, slapping against Negan’s belly.

“Missed your thick fucking cock,” Rick remarks, ravenously entranced as he takes Negan into his hand, giving the boy a tight stroke upwards to milk him of his precum, “Look at you, already leaking for me.”

And like that, those bruised lips are around Negan’s cock, taking in his length and swallowing him down alongside frantic thrusts.

When those lips are gone, Negan makes a noise of loss, but it doesn’t last for long.

Rick pushes Negan’s legs back, taking time to shower the back of his thighs with attentive kisses, lips moving closer and closer to the hot muscle of his inner thigh, so warm and soft, licking a teasing line up and down the crease where his hip begins.

Negan sighs out, grabbing a fistful of the sheets as he cants his ass up into Rick’s face, groaning, “ _ Please. _ Please just do it.”

Rick smiles, trailing his kisses back down the other way, trailing now to Negan’s knee as he sits between the boy’s legs.

“I’m not done,” he says, biting down sweetly into Negan’s firm flesh, “You’re so damn beautiful.”

Negan lights up at that, smiling sheepishly, eyes gleaming, “Really?”

Rick nods, peeking up for a quick reassuring kiss on Negan’s lips, “You’ve always been so beautiful.”

Negan blushes, waving a sweet hand in dismissal, “Shut up and stick your tongue in my ass.”

“Will do,” Rick smirks, “Just don’t come yet. I’m not done with you.”

And then Rick sinks back down, spreading Negan apart and diving in deep until he can feel the blond boy is close.

Then he pulls away, making the boy gasp as he climbs up his chest, straddling his head and stroking himself against Negan’s face as he says, “Do me a favor? Get me all nice and wet for you.”

Negan doesn’t waste a second getting Rick in his mouth, and his head gets to bobbing despite the awkward position, squeezing tightly at Rick’s ass before he spreads the boy apart, rubbing a couple rough fingers against his hole just for fun, just to hear Rick gasp and moan.

And then Rick pulls away, slinking back down Negan’s body until he’s between those legs again.

Another kiss to Negan’s thigh, and he’s slowly slipping inside, honing in on every shudder, every breath Negan emits, calculating his expressions.

“You good?” Rick asks when he’s all the way in.

Negan nods, “Yeah,” he says, voice heady as he takes in the all encompassing feeling of being so full of Rick, feeling every inch of him, “Yeah, just- just go slow.”

Rick nods, attentive, rocking his hips slowly into Negan and drawing soft gasps from the boy’s lips.

In time, they gain a rhythm, that same old rhythm they created together not long ago, but this time it's different. It's not as rushed and much more solid, much more locked in.

“I love you,” Negan chokes out, arms linked around Rick’s neck as he cums.

Rick watches as it hits him, and he strokes him through it, fucks him through it, feels the way Negan clenches like a vice around his cock.

Rick spills inside of the boy, buried deep, lying chest to chest, Negan’s cum smeared between their bellies.

“I love you, too,” Rick says, and it feels so good to say, it feels freeing, feels like the truth, feels like a giant weight has come off his shoulders.

So he says it again, pressing warm kisses into Negan’s shoulders, “I love you, too. I love you, I love you, I love you.”

The same way it feels good for Rick to say it is the same way it feels good for Negan to hear it.

Neither of them can stop smiling.

“So you admit it,” Negan smirks as Rick lies beside him, eyes half lidded and lackadaisical, glossy with ecstasy, “What does that mean now, huh? You my boyfriend, Ricky?”

Who knows if Rick is still drunk, or if Negan still has that rosy-cheeked effect on him.

“Do you wanna be my boyfriend? We only have so long, you know… to be together.”

“You think a few shitty states between us is gonna make me want you any less? Of course I want you to be my boyfriend,” Negan says, “That’s all I’ve wanted since fucking February.”

Rick smiles, a blinding grin so close to Negan’s face as they lie with their heads on the same pillow.

“So that’s it? You’re my boyfriend?”

Negan nods, returning Rick’s buzzing look.

“Uh-huh. I’m your fuckin’ boyfriend.”

Rick’s grin morphs into a devilish smirk as he moves to sit up.

“Well,  _ boyfriend.  _ Let's go take a shower before Lucille asks to crash in here with us… Unless you like having cum up your ass.”

Negan chuckles.

“Oh trust me, I really fuckin' do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i predict 23 chapters, one of which being an epilogue. but dont trust me on that one.  
> thank u all for reading!! i hope u enjoyed and as always, feedback n constructive criticism are more than welcome <333


	22. A Spectrum of Color

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> last chap!!! next comes the epilogue  
> song mood: kids by current joys

Two days later it occurs to Negan that he hasn’t told his parents the big news.

So he tells them over breakfast, with a big goofy grin.

“Hey Mom, Dad, guess what..”

They acknowledge him with tired grunts and coffee slurps.

Negan looks bashfully down into his bowl of cereal, as if maybe he could see his own smitten complexion in the reflection of the milk.

“…. Rick is my boyfriend.”

Negan’s Dad laughs, then says over the lip of his mug, “Yeah? For how many years now?”

Negan’s still grinning.

“Two days.”

“Ah, I see. So… when’s the wedding?” He teases, and Negan blushes.

But Negan’s Mom stays awfully quiet, hovering over the sink as she looks to keep her hands full.

She’s not looking at Negan, and it makes the boy worry as to why.

It's not the gay part- they sorted that out years ago, so that’s out of the question.

At least Negan hopes so.

Maybe she’s so happy she’s in tears and doesn’t want Negan to see? Maybe she didn’t hear Negan right? Who knows?

Negan just needs to get her to turn around so he can find out.

His Dad leaves for work a few minutes later, leaving Negan and his mother with a kiss atop the head, and then Negan sees his chance to get an answer.

“So…” Negan begins, and he can’t help the slight amount of worry that leaks into his voice, “You don’t- you don’t mind that I’m dating Rick, do you?”

His mother goes still, stopping her frantic wiping down of the marble counter.

She sighs out, finally turning to meet her son’s gaze, “Negan. I have to be honest with you, I do have a problem.”

Negan frowns, sinking into his chair, “Because he’s a boy?”

His mother gasps, like she’s actually astounded by Negan’s words, and she rushes to correct herself.

“ _Ay, mijo, no!_ No, no, no!” She says, hurrying to comfort her son with a tight hug around his shoulders, “ _No me importa eso!_ You know that.”

“Then what is it?” Negan says, “Why do you have a problem?”

She purses her lips, searching for the right words to say as she moves back into her own space, settling a weary hand on her hip and falling back into her mother stance.

“He’s leaving so soon, Negan...and so far away, too. I just.. I just worry, that’s all.”

Negan furrows his brows, “Should I be worried about that?”

“I would,” she says, “I just don’t want you to get hurt.”

Negan hadn’t come to consider it as he was basking in the high of his new relationship with Rick, but maybe he does have something to worry about after all.

-

The month of May comes along quickly, and there’s not much Negan can do to make the time stop, or even slow down just a little bit. Everyday he wonders if he’s making the most of his time.

From his time with Rick, to his time with his parents, and with Lucille. He hardly likes alone time anymore. Whenever he’s alone he just misses his friends or his parents. He always has to be around the people he loves, but even when he is around them, the sadness is still there, because he doesn’t know how long it’ll stay this way with them all together.

All this time is something he should be enjoying, but now all he feels is the stress to make every small second memorable.

What if he just wants to be boring? What if he just wants to lay around?

 _I can’t_ , Negan tells himself, _I have to make it all count, I have to turn three weeks into ten years, I have to make all my dreams and fantasies come true before I leave high school and have no clue where to start at all._

Lucky for Negan, it's not hard to have fun when he’s with Rick and Lucille, or when he’s skating around with Dwight, or laughing with his Mom and Dad.

But still, at the end of the day, when he’s lying in his bed either by himself or beside Rick, Negan feels like he could’ve done so much more.

He thinks about everything he could’ve done, everything he’s not doing, and a looming cloud hangs over his head at all times of the day, thundering out the thought _You’re not working hard enough. You’re not doing enough._

The thoughts only worsen when he sees all of his classmates getting accepted into their dream schools, getting thousands of dollars in scholarships, graduating at the top of their class.

Negan hasn’t the slightest clue of what he should do.

How do you tell someone you don’t want to go to college, that you’re not made for it, when his entire school and all of his family see it as the end all be all and the only option?

Sometimes Negan makes up the scenarios in his head. They’re all bad, incidentally.

It goes something like this:

An adult with authority, most likely a principal or a counselor that works at his school, calls him into their office to ask him about how he’s doing with his post secondary education plans.

_We just wanted to call you in here to ask about how you’re doing- see if you had any questions about your financial aid, or any forms that are due soon. Oh, and have you decided whether or not you’ll be doing scholarship night? You should try it. All you’ve gotta do is stand in front of a giant herd of baby boomers that founded this city and face their grilling questions with robotic responses and act idyllically inhuman. Then maybe you’ll get some money that’ll be a drop in the ocean of your soon-to-be college debt. How does that sound?_

And Negan would say something less than eloquent about how he doesn’t think college is the best option for him, and he’d receive a _very_ passive aggressive _Well, what do you plan on doing?_

And he’d murmur something about not knowing even though he has a slight clue, because old adults with weird haircuts make him feel like anything he says will never be good enough, and then he’d get a less than desired look and scholarship forms shoved at him, and then he’d be sent back to class feeling way worse than he had before.

Negan just wants to forget about all of it. But at the same time, he wants it all to be out there. He wants to tell someone.

And he has a boyfriend now- what better person to confide in than him?

His only problem is that he’s not sure how to bring it up without sounding awkward or desperate, so he searches for the right time.

He finds it one day- though he hadn’t known it- when Rick decides he wants to skip a few classes in the library computer lab to work on some scholarships essays, and asks Negan to tag along with him.

For about an hour, it's just the two of them hacking away on keys- Rick conjuring up an immaculate two page essay on why he thinks college is important, and Negan jamming the arrow keys playing snake- and sharing a pair of headphones to listen to music together.

After that hour, Rick looks away from his screen and glances at Negan’s to see the blond boy’s high score of one hundred and sixty something, the. begins to think aloud.

“Have you applied for any scholarships?” He asks Negan.

Negan breathes out, then says, solidly and so rehearsed, “A few.”

“How many?”

“One.”

Rick sighs, “Negan… why?”

“What do you mean _why?_ ”

“Scholarships are important! It’s free money, and college _isn’t_ cheap.”

“Yeah, I know that. I’m not fucking stupid,” Negan murmurs, jaw set with petulance as he maneuvers his lengthy green snake along its confines, eyes glued on the monitor.

Rick rolls his eyes, staring at the side of Negan’s face with an awed perplexity because the boy is very much a stubborn headed teen.

“What college do you wanna go to?” Rick asks instead, hoping to get more insight.

He receives a fat shrug, “I don’t care,” Negan says, and his snake has surpassed two hundred.

Rick groans internally, rolling his eyes before he  smashes Negan’s space bar, pausing the game, and Negan cries out an indignant _Hey!_

“C’mon, we don’t talk to each other like this, Negan. Not us. You can tell me anything, okay? No matter what the answer is.”

Negan goes quiet, biting his tongue.

Rick reaches out, laying a hand on Negan’s thigh, “Okay, baby?”

Negan looks over at him, eyes weary, lacking youth and that great eighteen year old gleam that seems to always be contained in that hazel gel.

He looks down at Rick’s hand, swallows down the lump in his throat that locks away his words.

“I don’t wanna fucking go to college,” Negan admits, and its bordering on a whimper, “College sounds like it fucking sucks. I had a cousin who went to college once and he came out of it pregnant and addicted to crack.”

“ _He?_  Pregnant?”

“Don’t be ignorant, I meant what I said,” and then, just so Rick knows, “I’m not fuckin’ stupid.”

_I was failing all my classes up until yesterday but I’m not fucking stupid. College isn’t for me but I’m not fucking stupid… right?_

“Oh,” Rick mumbles, “I’m sorry..”

“Don’t worry about it,” Negan dismisses, and goes back to feeding his snake.

Rick continues watching him for a moment, until the air around them thins out.

“It’s okay,” he says eventually, swallowing down his nerves and planting a quick, shy kiss on Negan’s temple that makes Negan’s snake hit a wall and die.

They’ve done some sexual shit together, but soft shit like little affectionate kisses is something new to them, and Negan’s glittering eyes prove it true. “Maybe you just haven’t found a college you like,” Rick continues, “There’s still time.”

Negan’s small bend of a smile fades away, back to that indignant stress.

“And what if I never do?” Negan says pointedly, because he knows he won’t.

Rick hears that all in his tone, and gives Negan an unfortunate look, almost like an apology.

“You have to go to college, Negan,” Rick says firmly, eyeing Negan with immovable intent.

Negan sulks, groaning.

“Not you, too…”

“Negan, you have to be realistic! You don’t go to college, what the hell are you gonna do? There’s nothing for you to do if you don’t go to college.”

“I don’t know what the fuck I’m gonna do, okay?? But even if I was going to some stupid university or some fucking junior college, I wouldn’t know either! I’d still be aimlessly wandering this bitch of an earth, only then I’d have an assload of classes on my shoulders, and what’s that good for?”

Rick eyes him blankly, calculating his motions, and not standing for his snappy tone.

Negan takes a deep breath.

“All I wanna do _right now_ is play some fucking Snake and listen to music with _you_ , my boyfriend,” Negan says, and suddenly, the word boyfriend hits him in a way that’s not so sweet.

How long will the word _boyfriend_ last between them? Until Rick lays eyes on a California boy with a nicer tan and blond hair that’s actually natural?

After those thoughts hit him, Negan gets a little emotional.

“Only plans I have right now are getting through this _shitty_ day by playing some Snake, going to McDonalds with you and Lucille after school, and then heading back to my place with you so maybe I can screw your brains out or vice fuckin’ versa… But you know, those are all just fucking plans. Plans get shit on all the time by stupid little things like the your boyfriend moving to California.”

Rick scowls, yanking his headphone from Negan’s ear and returning it to his own.

“Play your stupid fucking Snake then,” he says, adding on a muttered, “...jerk.”

Negan frowns.

“Will do, assface.”

-

“You’re not still mad at me, right?” Negan asks.

They’ve just gotten home from McDonald’s, and while they managed to keep their quarrel under wraps in front of Lucille, when they got back to Negan’s place, all fell silent.

At first it felt like a good, easy kind of silence; the peaceful kind. But then as they fell into bed, Rick easing onto his phone, and Negan averting his eyes to the ceiling, Negan remembered _oh yeah, we’re mad at each other_.

Only he really wasn’t mad anymore. Not at all.

But he couldn’t tell if Rick was.

The boy sighs deeply in response.

“... Kinda,” he admits, but he hands Negan an earphone like it’s a peace offering.

Negan accepts it, and Rick plays his music as they lie in bed.

“I just don’t wanna go to college,” Negan says tiredly, “I don’t see what the big fucking deal is.”

“I’m just trying to understand you, is all,” Rick says, softly turning to face Negan, sheets rustling, “I don’t want you to feel like I’m judging you.”

“How can I not feel like that when it's all anyone’s ever done to me my whole life?”

Rick frowns, those words making him sad.

“I’m sorry.”

Negan shakes his head, dismissive.

Rick moves in closer, wrapping an arm around Negan, pulling him closer until they’re midriff to midriff, Rick’s nose bumping Negan’s lip.

“What do you see when you think about the future?” Rick asks, so quiet it feels intimate.

Negan ruffles about, getting comfortable.

“What do I- what do I _see?”_

“Yeah,” Rick supplies, “Like when you daydream or something.”

Negan sighs as he closes his eyes, laying his head atop Rick’s.

“You’re gonna laugh at me,” Negan bemoans, cheeks heating up.

Rick smiles, teasing him as his hands clutch into Negan’s hips, venturing lower and snagging a quick squeeze at Negan’s butt, “Yeah, maybe I will..”

Negan lets out a yip, reflexively reaching out to reciprocate Rick’s cheeky touch, much to the boys chagrin.

“You can’t laugh!” Negan says, out of breath and laughing himself as he’s grappling with Rick, “Promise me!”

Rick giggles hysterically, “Stop trying to- _AHH!-_ stop trying to grab my- my ass!”

“You started it!” Negan laughs, just as Rick finally rolls over onto his back, playing keepaway with his buns, and thinking he’s really won this time.

Until Negan finds his way on top of him, straddling his lap and pinning his wrists.

Still Rick wriggles, giggling and blushing, “Get off of me!” He cries happily.

Negan just smiles and keeps him there.

“You know what I want from my future?” He says, eyes calm and gooey as he looks down at Rick

“What?” Rick smirks lazily.

“I want kids,” Negan says, “I wanna be a Dad, and I wanna raise kids that’ll one day be able to feel as much fucking love for someone as I do for you. I wanna love my kids as much as I love you. And I know I will. I can fuckin’ see it. I was made for this fucking shit.”

Negan can almost physically feel the smile Rick gives him in return for his words. It’s like his fingers are stroking against his skin, or softly caressing his face.

“Can’t exactly go to college for that, huh?”

Negan gives a crooked smile, “Nope. Might start babysitting though. It's a dying art.”

Rick laughs, gets his arms free of Negan’s grip just so he can run his fingers through his blond hair, tucking strands behind his ear and away from his face.

“So you want kids, huh? Even though you’re just a kid yourself.”

Negan nods.

“Not now, obviously. But eventually…”

Rick smirks, takes Negan’s face between his hands.

“Who you want those kids with, huh? Gonna get you a pretty wife to pop those suckers out one by by one?”

Negan’s smile falls.

“What? What do you mean?”

“You want your own kids, right? You need a girl for that.”

“No I don’t.”

“Fine, a vagina.”

Negan sighs, “Sure, I need a sperm and an egg, but… I can have a husband if I want, too.”

“Of course you can, baby,” Rick reassures, but the way he says it sounds impersonal to Negan’s ears, Like he doesn’t see himself in Negan’s picture of the future, or like he doesn’t want to be there in the first place.

But he can’t just say, _I want you to be my husband and help father our future children_ , when they’ve been dating for just less than a week. That would be fucking weird.

So instead of saying that, something else comes out.

“You’re not gonna dump me for some cute, tan California boy with abs who can surf, right?”

Rick guffaws, astounded by the suddenness of the question, “What the- Of course not, Negan! What are you even talking about?”

“People in California are conceited as shit and sexy as fuck and drink organic green juice shit just to have nice skin and live an extra hour or two. Meanwhile I’m here lookin like Texas fucking Toast and- and I’m just.. I’m just trying to be realistic here, alright? I know there’s going to be.. temptation, or what the fuck ever.”

Rick props himself up on his shoulders, Negan still on his lap, “ _What?_ No! I’d never-” Rick takes a grounding breath, starts again, “Do you really think that’s all I care about? Looks?”

“C’mon Rick! You dated Jesus! The prettiest boy at our fucking school.”

“I think _you’re_ the prettiest boy at our school!”

“Is that the only reason you’re dating me?”

Rick shoots him a look, but sighs, running a hand over his face, “Negan… what can I even say to make you feel better at this point?”

Negan gives up after that, because after a moment of wracking his brain for an answer, he realizes he is quite literally insufferable.

He moves off of Rick’s lap and settles at his side.

Rick follows, turning into him.

“Nothing, I guess,” Negan sighs, “I guess there’s nothing you can really fuckin’ say. I’m just… having a hard time right now, with everything going on. I’m too fucking sensitive for my own good. This all just fucking sucks.”

“C’mere,” Rick says softly, guiding Negan toward his chest, holding him in close as Negan wraps his arms tight around Rick’s torso.

They lie like that for a moment, until things become more tranquil, and Negan feels like he’s just waiting for the next high tide.

Because isn’t that all life is?

“We’re gonna be okay,” Rick comforts, tone so assuring and so confident though it's so gentle it hardly carries the volume of a whisper.

How is he so young and still so confident? Is that possible when you’re only eighteen?

“This isn’t the end of the world, you know? Us graduating isn’t the end of the world. Neither is us getting older.”

Negan gulps, kneading his fingers in the soft material of Rick’s favorite t-shirt: a royal blue Sonic Youth t-shirt. The one with the washing machine on it. Ironically enough, it shrunk in the wash, so it fits him a little small. Not that Negan’s complaining.

But he thinks, irrationally so, what’s gonna happen when this shirt gets too old? When Rick outgrows it? When it gets full of holes and tears and loses its vivid, deep color?

And why can’t it stay exactly how it is right now, in this moment? Why?

“I know it's not the end of the world, but..” Negan takes a deep breath, inhales the smell of clean cotton and Rick’s skin, “It’s the end of a fucking era. We’re not kids anymore. We haven’t been for a while, but still. All of this shit- us graduating, you going to California- it just makes it all so fucking real.”

“We’ll have new eras together. You and me,” Rick says, kissing the top of Negan’s head, running fingers through his hair, “It's been good, this school year. Even after everything that went down, I’m glad it all happened. Because it was supposed to happen. Whatever happens when we graduate, when I leave, is supposed to happen. But me and you… we’re forever.”

Negan looks warmly into Rick’s eyes, assessing his promises in the wonderful little pool of blue color before he smiles against Rick’s t-shirt, grinning into the cotton and letting it soak up his affection so Rick can wear it around all day long.

“You are so fucking cheesy,” he says, “God, I fucking love you.”

-

Time goes by so fast sometimes it almost feels like it isn’t even real in the first place. One moment you’re in your head preparing for a special day or a special event, feeling as though it’ll never come quick enough, and the next moment you open your eyes from some peaceful sleep, and the day you’ve been waiting for is there to greet you like it’s known you all your life.

That’s how quickly graduation comes, and on the morning of it, Negan lays in his bed and looks around at his bedroom, trying to remember the true, former colors of the things that lay in it, wondering how he had never been able to see them aging in the midst of his life.

He has a very vivid memory in his head of arriving at middle school in the morning- it must’ve been fourth grade, because after one of his classmates complained about having to go to school so early in the mornings, a nearby janitor said, “Don’t worry kiddo, ya’ only got eight more years!”  
And Negan remembers thinking, God those years will never pass.

Now he has nothing left. No more groggy mornings and bleary eyed drives to school.

Right now, that sits on the more bitter side of bittersweet with Negan, just because he is scared.

“Fear can be a good thing,” His Mom tells him over a teary eyed breakfast of waffles overdressed with syrup, the sun cramming in through the kitchen window and blinding him with its warm yellowness so that he can’t see his Mom as she says, “It means you can sense a future. That alone is a good enough sign.”

“When we were little, you always told me it was okay to be scared,” Rick tells Negan later on,  while they’re with Lucille at her hair appointment, sitting side by side in the waiting room.

“I did?” Negan says, voice going from dim and gray to tickled pink in the span of two syllables.

Rick nods, “You would always ask me if I wanted to ride your scooter, and I’d always say no but never explain why, because I was too embarrassed to admit I was scared. But I think you knew anyways, and you told me, ‘It’s okay to be scared. I was, too.’ But it wasn’t like you were mocking me, you actually meant it.”

Negan smiles then, crooked and warm and daring to leak optimism, and he knows what Rick is about to say now.

“I know you’re scared. It’s okay to be,” He slides his arm down Negan’s armrest, laying his hand atop Negan’s, fingers softly touching, “Everyone is.”

“Oh, I’m fucking terrified,” Lucille says when Rick and Negan ask her about graduation a moment later, her voice loud and casual over the whir of a hairdresser, completely unabashed, and full of acceptance, “I know what I want, but in the words of our Lord and Savior Jimi Hendrix, I just don't know how to go about gettin’ it. But I’ll get there, alright… Mark my fucking words.”

Putting that cap and gown on felt less like a personal accomplishment and more like being cloaked in fellow commiseration with all of his classmates. But with that being known, Negan felt a lot less panicked, and lot like maybe this fear meant he was on the right track.

And throwing up those tacky fucking hats felt like one less weight on his shoulders.

Negan, with his ungodly GPA and his scant amount of scholarship money and his old news basketball skills, made it.

So did Rick and so did Lucille, and Negan’s parents made sure to immortalize that with an endless amount of photos.

“Do you see her?” Negan asks Rick, watching the boy’s hopeful eyes as he cranes his neck searching the wide expanse of the grassy green football field for just one person.

Negan has that same hope in his eyes as he joins the look out, because he doesn’t want Rick to be left disappointed.

“I don't know what I’m looking for other than lipstick,” Rick says then thinks, “Shit, what if she doesn’t even wear it anymore? What if she can’t recognize me?”

“I’m sure she can recognize you. Mom’s are fucking weird like that,” Negan assures as they both continue looking for the same thing: bright and blinding fuschia lips.

But it seems they both get found first.

“Ricky?” A familiar voice says from behind, placing a gentle, tentative hand on Rick’s shoulder.

It’s been so long since Rick has heard that voice somewhere other than in a running memory in his head. Hearing it now almost feels fake.

“Mom?” Rick says, almost instinctively as he turns to meet the voice.

When he sees his mom  with her giant smile and her eyes glistening with tears of pure elation, he instantly begins to cry, seeking refuge in a pair of arms he hasn’t been held by in years.

Negan cries, too, as he watches from the side. So does Lucille, though she barely understands what’s going on.

When Rick and his Mom pull away, the older woman reveling in the wake of her son, Rick finally looks over at Negan and Lucille, his eyes wet with mirth.

“Mom, this is my friend Lucille,” he says, gesturing towards the curly haired girl with a teary eyed smile.

They say their greetings to each other, sharing a moment together as Negan looks over to Rick, giving him a look that Rick reads as _Does she know?_

Rick gives him a shrug, as if to say _I don’_ , but he’s not so worried. His Mom _is_ marrying a woman, after all.

“And this is Negan-”

“Oh, you don’t have to tell me who this is!” She says suddenly, reaching out for the boy and pulling him into a hug. She ruffles a hand through his hair, “Or maybe you did. Almost didn’t recognize him without a scooter at his side. Nice blond, kiddo.”

“Thanks,” Negan smiles, “Lucille did it.”

“I did good, huh?” Lucille quips, and Rick’s mom chuckles.

“Negan’s my, um… my boyfriend, Mom,” Rick finishes finally, and instantly the woman gasps, jaw dropping incredulously with a hand over her chest.

“You’re kidding me!!” She says, absolutely beaming, still holding Negan by the shoulders, looking at him with even more awe before something solemn comes over her, “You know, me and Janet were best friends way before we started dating. Just like you and Ricky. Isn’t that kinda funny?”

Negan smiles crookedly, shares a quick look with a sheepish Rick.

“Yeah…” he says, “I guess it is.”

-

After a busy night, Rick and Negan manage to find some time to themselves.

Lucille is with her family, and Negan’s parents are out with Rick’s Mom, catching up and what not.

Maybe if Rick weren’t leaving first thing in the morning, they would’ve joined them on their night out.

But Rick _is_ leaving tommorow, and all Negan wants to do is spend as much quality time with him as possible.

So they find themselves at Negan’s house, as usual.

And as they walk down the halls, Rick takes his time looking at the pictures that hang up on the walls- pictures that have been up there for years- as if it’s the first time he’s ever seen them.

“What are you doing?” Negan asks softly, so gently amused and so fond of his boy.

“I’m gonna miss this place,” is all Rick says, a crooked smile gracing his lips.

“You say that like you’re never coming back,” Negan says, giving a tense laugh, and then suddenly, “You _are_ coming back, right??”

“Of course I am,” Rick assures, grabbing onto Negan’s hand, fiddling with his boyfriends fingers, “I just…. who knows how long I’ll be gone, you know?”

Negan frowns, but tries his best to will it away.

“Do you wanna take a bath with me?” He asks instead, leading Rick to his room, “My mom got me some stuff from Lush as a graduation gift like a fucking week ago and I never got around to taking that shit for a spin. It’s supposed to turn the water pink and bubbly and smell like roses.”

“O...kay?” Rick says, slightly confused by the sudden change in subject, and the way Negan urgently tugs him towards his bathroom, like its some sort of race.

He wonders if he’s just imagining this air of tension around them.

“Wait,” Rick says as Negan begins to undress in front of him, “I wanna go to your room to-”

“ _Why?_ ” Negan snaps, “You’re gonna see it later, okay? You’re gonna see it again. What do you think we’re gonna sleep in the fucking bathtub?”

Rick flinches back, slightly wounded as he firmly says, “I left my clothes in there, asshole.”

Negan blinks as he realizes his edginess.

Then he sighs out wearily, teeth meeting his bottom lip as he looks down at his bare feet, standing half naked and guilt ridden.

“Shit, uh… I’m.. I’m fucking sorry, Blue,” Negan apologizes, “I didn’t mean to yell at you like-“

“I know,” Rick says, and the words are all encompassing, touching every border of Negan’s mind.

Negan nods, “You can go,” he says, adding sheepishly, “Actually, can you bring me back some underwear?”

Rick smirks, “Will do,” and he saunters out of the room.

When he comes back, Negan is already filling the tub, steam filling the room.

Rick sets their clothes to the side and begins to strip.

“Should I put the whole thing in?” Negan asks, staring pensively down at the small body of water.

“It’s a bubble bar?”

“Yeah.”

“Maybe like half,” Rick answers, but Negan kinda wants to put the whole thing in. “I think you might’ve filled the tub too much,” Rick adds.

“We’ll see about that,” Negan says, voice haughty as he takes the bubble bar into his hands, trying to break it in half, “Now help me split this shit in two.”

“That’s what she said,” Rick quips, and Negan snaps his head towards the boy to give him a proud smile, but as he does, his elbow slips on the wet edge of the tub, and the bubble bar meets water.

“Aw shit..” Negan says, “Guess it was fate, huh?”

Rick huffs a laugh.

“You’re gonna regret that,” He says.

Negan scowls like a child, “No I won’t.”

And for once Negan is right, he does not regret it one bit.

The only thing he does regret is that he did fill the tub up a little too much, so some water overflows, but he absolutely does _not_ regret the twelve inches of bubble height all around him.

Rick doesn’t seem to be complaining either, only when Negan is blowing bubbles at his face, but even then he’s smiling, reciprocating that same playfulness and laughing, laughing, laughing, as Negan builds a beard of bubbles around his mouth and then kisses him silly.

Those laughs turn into gasps and moans when Negan pulls Rick into his lap and gives him a quick, eager handjob, causing a mammoth sloshing of water to run over the edge of the tub as Rick squirms with his orgasm.

Rick’s chest heaves widely, up and down, and Negan presses his cheek against the boy’s, cupping Rick’s left pec, feeling the thump of his heart as it meets ease.

“We should clean up,” Rick says after a while.

“Wait,” Negan says, tranquil as his firm hand stills Rick’s motions, “Let’s just… stay here a minute more.”

Rick sighs with content, shutting his eyes as he leans his head lazily against Negan’s chest.

He knows Negan wants this to last, this tender moment of seemingly eternal peace and loveliness.

And he wants to grant Negan that much, so he stays.

“‘Course you wanna sit in cum water just a few minutes more,” Rick teases with a lax smirk.

Negan hacks a laugh.

“Rick, I would _drown_ in your cum if I had the fuckin’ opportunity.”

And there goes that moment…

-

After their bath, Rick heads back to Negan’s room.

Negan stays behind, saying something about deep conditioning before Rick departs.

When he comes back, ruffling a towel through his hair, Rick is lying on his bed, nose dipped in the latest copy of their high school yearbook, wearing a pair of navy blue running shorts and some knee socks with matching stripes, the white fabric looking so stark against the sun kissed color of Rick’s thighs.

Negan absolutely ogles him, frozen in his place.

Rick senses his silence after a moment, feels Negan’s eyes on him.

“What?”

Negan throws his towel at Rick’s pretty face, because with the way he’s laying, and with what he’s wearing, he _definitely_ knows what.

“Knee socks? You tryna make my fucking dick explode? Where the hell were those during track season?”

Rick shrugs, smirking up at his boyfriend, “Didn’t want the tan lines.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah..” Negan smirks, running a hand through his damp hair.

Rick watches the motions with lusty eyes, gaze slinking down along the lines of Negan’s body, from his slightly stubbled neck, all the way down his long, bare torso until he settles his sights on his hips.

Then he flicks his eyes up to meet Negan’s.

“You look good,” he says, hotly terse.

Negan smirks, a twinkling blush upon the high points of his cheeks.

“Yeah?”

“Mhm,” Rick hums and nods, then says, “Don’t move,” as he makes his way towards Negan until he’s propped on his knees before him.

Negan looks down at him with a great shade of fascination, open mouthed with his heart rapidly beating as Rick gets a grip on his hips, holding him firmly as he begins to kiss at his skin, venturing from his sternum all the way down to his navel.

Negan relishes in the sound of Rick’s clicking kisses, all wet and unabashed, until the sounds cease and sweet fingers are dipping below his boxers, pulling out his half hard length.

Negan’s breath stutters as Rick gives a teasing lick at the head of his cock, finally slipping his tight lips around it, sucking until Negan lets out a pleasured hiss, his fingers finding their way into Rick’s silky curls.

“You want me to fuck you, baby?” Negan asks, voice breathy and awed as Rick bobs his head up and down Negan’s length, taking the time to fondle his balls with both his hands and his tongue.

“Mhm,” Rick hums around Negan’s dick, opening his eyes and looking up the blond boy as he nods yes.

Negan smirks, pleased as he smooths Rick’s hair back away from his eyes.

He uses his other hand to smooth down Rick’s back, settling on the softness of Rick’s shorts.

“Take these off,” Negan orders, grasping a handful of the fabric and pulling his cock out of Rick’s mouth.

Rick obliges, pulling off his shorts and his underwear as Negan watches every movement with eager eyes.

“Wait-” Negan says, when he sees Rick reach for his socks, “...Keep those on.”

Rick spares him a cheeky glance, like he knew Negan would say that.

“Stop giving me that look and lie down,” Negan smirks, playfully pushing at Rick’s chest, “I’m gonna finger the fuck out of you.”

“That a threat or a promise?” Rick says, raising an eyebrow as he settles back against the headboard, spreading his legs wide as an invitation for Negan.

Surely enough, Negan’s eyes fall towards that sinly center, can practically feel his eyes dilating further with bonafide want.

“God, baby, it's whatever the fuck you want it to be,” Negan says, quickly reaching into the drawer of his nightstand for his handy dandy bottle of lube, and then hurrying towards Rick’s parted legs.

He slicks up his fingers, lathering Rick’s hole generously before he slips two inside, rubbing into the soft and silky skin of Rick’s walls as he leans in, licking a stripe against Rick’s flushed cock, making the boy moan lowly beneath him.

When he finds Rick’s spot, which doesn’t take long with Negan’s trained hands, he slips in three, compensating for the stretch with a sharp suck at the head of Rick’s cock.

“I-I’m ready- _oh!-_ I’m ready, Negan. C’mon, baby,” Rick whimpers, body writhing out of whack as he tries to fuck back onto Negan’s fingers and thrust up into his mouth at the same time, body wrought up tight with overwhelming pleasure.

Negan keeps on going, sucking and fingering until he feels Rick’s body hinting towards an orgasm with that familiar tightening of his stomach and the choked silence and the twitching thighs.

And then he takes away every stimulating sensation, leaving Rick with nothing so suddenly.

Rick is gasping, heaving with heavy breaths as he looks up at Negan with the sexiest look of utter betrayal.

“What the fuck was that??” Rick pouts, slapping at  Negan’s arm with petulance, “I was about to cum, you asswipe!”

“I know,” Negan smirks, grabbing more lube to lather himself with.

“Don’t do that again,” Rick says, but he’s smirking too, and Negan knows it's more of a dare than anything as he reads into that mischievous glint in the boy’s dilated eyes.

So Negan leaves Rick on the edge three times, until finally Rick cries out in frustration, fucking back onto the air until he realizes who he is and flips Negan onto his back, riding him hard and heavy, bouncing up and down and grinding to and fro until he’s dripping sweat and _finally_ shooting cum all over Negan and falling heavy onto the boy’s chest, lying like a puddle of sexed up goo as Negan wraps his arms tight around Rick’s midriff, fucking fast up into his teased, over stimulated insides.

Rick practically yells through it until Negan is spilling inside of him, so hot and deep.

That’s when Negan gets Rick on his back again, falling in between the boy’s legs one last time as he spreads his warm flesh apart, licking up into his sensitive cum filled hole as Rick cries out with surprise, helpless to the excessive amount of pleasure being served to him, thighs trembling like mad as Negan laps up his own cum, licking him clean and then moving his head back up to ruthlessly suck at Rick’s just as sensitive cock until he has Rick choking out moans and seeing stars. He stops only when he feels a hand weakly pushing at his head.

“Good?” Negan asks, planting a smug kiss on the skin of Rick’s quaking inner thigh.

“I think…” Rick stops to take a breather, gathering his melting mind, “I think I’m in heaven.”

Negan grins at that, and pulls Rick in closer with the intention of never letting go.

-

It’s so weird, so inexplicably heart breaking to fall asleep next to someone you love, and have them leave you first thing in the morning when you can barely comprehend your surroundings.

After breakfast, Rick gets ready to head to the airport with his Mom, who’s picking him up in a few minutes.

His parents say goodbye, and so does Lucille, but Negan doesn’t want to say goodbye. He doesn’t want Rick to leave.

He’s quiet the whole morning, mourning in silence,  until Rick asks Negan to help him find something in his room; an obvious excuse to have some privacy with the boy.

Negan knows this, so when he enters his room, he goes to sit on the edge of the bed, head hanging down as he looks at his hands wringing weakly in his lap.

Rick sighs.

“Look at me,” he pleads, “Why can’t you just look at me?”

When Negan hears the hurt in Rick’s tone, he knows he has to look up.

But as soon as he catches sight of the boy’s face, the face he’s been lucky enough to see everyday for the past few months, he can’t help but have his frown deepen- and weakly, he begins to weep.

“That’s why,” Negan says, wiping feebly at his eyes, “Because I’ll start crying like a fucking idiot bitch boy.”

Rick sits beside Negan, pulling the boy into a hug as tight as he can manage.

“You’re not an idiot bitch boy,” Rick says quietly, wiping gently at Negan’s tears before he plants a kiss on the boy’s cheek, pressing his face against Negan’s, “You’re my precious, precious boyfriend who ate his own cum out of my ass last night.”

Negan smiles his first smile of the morning, and it's wet and beaming.

“Oh God… that’s me, huh?”

“Mhm,” Rick says, giggling as he squeezes his arms tighter around Negan.

Negan settles further into him, savoring the closeness.

Then he sighs.

“I’m gonna miss you so fucking much,” He says to Rick, fighting off another round of tears, “Everyday.”

“I’m gonna call you all the time. Text you every morning,” Rick says, “I’ll email you if I have to. I promise you’re gonna be so tired of me, I’m never gonna get off your case.”

Negan smiles, weak but real.

“You promise?”

“I promise,” Rick nods.

They sit there in silence after that, soaking in each other’s essence until that fateful horn honks from outside and Rick’s mother sounds her arrival.

Negan frowns again as Rick moves to get up.

He decides maybe he should do the same.

“So this is it, huh?” Negan says, biting down hard on his lip.

“Yeah,” Rick nods, “I guess so.”

“I love you,” Negan says, a desperate declaration.

“I love you, too,” Rick says, and Negan sees tears in his baby blue eyes.

They share a parting kiss, stretching it out for everything it's worth, savoring one another taste, lingering against each other even when it's over.

When Rick pulls away, opening his mouth to speak, Negan beats him to it.

“I wanna give you something,” Negan says, going to search through his drawers as Rick look on  with a brow raised.

He watches with intent as Negan pulls out a jersey of familiar maroon.

“Your basketball jersey?” Rick says, an amused lilt to his lips as he takes the fabric into his hands, accepting the gift.

“Yup,” Negan smirks, “Number seventeen, baby. That shit’ll be worth millions one day.”

Rick shakes his head fondly.

“Why this?”

“What, you don’t like it?”

“No! No, I do, but.. why?”

Negan bites the inside of his cheek.

Vulnerable, vulnerable, vulnerable- all he’s been is vulnerable lately.

“Because…” he admits, “it kind of brought us together, dontcha think?”

Rick huffs a soft laugh, looks down at the jersey in his hands and it’s bittersweet sentiment.

Freshmen year he used to go to the schools basketball games just to watch Negan play. All he wanted was an excuse to look at the boy, to figure him out just by looking at him for however long four quarters lasted.

Sophomore year he even thought about joining the basketball team, thinking maybe that was his only way of getting Negan back into his life. How hard could basketball be, after all?

(The answer was _very_ hard).

Junior year he joined Lucille’s book club because she was the closest person to Negan in the school, and he wanted to see why. He wanted offhand tips on how to maybe grab Negan’s attention.

All he got was good books and new friends. But he wasn’t complaining.

Senior year he feared he would never be close to Negan again. He knew he was running out of time, and in a panic, he volunteered to be a sports trainer for the boy’s varsity basketball team.

It was a last resort, serving up water for some closeted and homophobic teenage basketball players, but it worked, though.

All thanks to a broken leg.

This jersey, to Rick, symbolizes all of that. Every second of it.

He thinks Negan knows that, too.

“Thank you,” Rick says, quiet and meek, quickly wiping away a tear that skims down his cheek.

Negan just smiles, eyes pooling.

There’s a knock at Negan’s door.

Finally, Negan lets him go.

He clutches the back of Rick’s head, plants a soft kiss on the boy’s forehead.

“Now go get ‘em, tiger,” he murmurs, lips skimming the soft skin beneath them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact this fic was supposed to be called mayonaise, not even joking. It was also supposed to be set in the 90s.  
> i hope u all enjoyed!! ill get sappy after the epilogue so count on that!


	23. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow oh my god epilogue  
> song mood for this chap: FACE by BROCKHAMPTON  
> n also jst a rlly good songmood for this fic overall is friends by the velvet underground, i wish i had remembered that song sooner

“How does it feel?” Rick’s mom asks, “Does it feel weird? Being back after so long?”

She smiles in fuschia as she speaks, and her tone is rapt like a curious child.

Rick is torn between two moods as he sits at his grandparents dinner table with only his mom by his side.

Janet is at her own place, and Rick’s grandparents excused themselves to a post-meal walk on the beach.

Rick and his mom stayed behind, wishing for privacy.

“Yeah, it feels weird,” Rick says, dragging a steamed piece of broccoli across his plate, playing around with its fibrous body, “But not like you’d think.”

“What do you mean?”

Rick bites at his lip, looking over at his mom as he thinks.

Then he drops his fork, lays his hands on the old wooden table, studying the contrast of his pale skin against dark, tawny stain.

“Being here last time, it was like- like mourning, I guess. Everyone was mourning, things were quiet. Now everyone's so loud and grandpa’s telling jokes and you and grandma are laughing and.. and I think I expected everyone to still be mourning when I came back.”

“Because _you_ never got to mourn?”

Rick takes in a deep breath, and he didn’t know he’d been in need of a cry until he kept on trying to fight it off.

The only thing he got to mourn last time he was in California was Negan, and maybe not even correctly so. Then Shane- and that was it.

Rick was so afraid of his Dad, so constantly on edge and expecting him to come back that he never had the time to actually deal with all of his feelings regarding the man.

“Yeah,” Rick says, quiet voice cracking despite the efforts, “Yeah, I guess so.”

“Do you miss him?” She asks, placing a hand atop her son’s, an honest comfort.

The urge to bawl overcomes Rick, and he can no longer fight it.

“No,” Rick spits out, shaking his head, “I can’t remember a day where I haven’t been scared of him, even when he was gone. Sometimes even when I was in school or just- just going to sleep at night, I was- I was scared of him. Scared that he’d find me.”

Rick’s breath hitches in his throat and the sobs unleash. Just talking about him makes Rick feel overwhelmed with fear.

His mother's arms find their way around him, holding him tight, warmly consoling.

“He’s not gonna find you. He’s never gonna lay a hand on you again. You’re safe,” and she repeats that again and again until Rick feels it resonate within him.

_You’re safe._

They pull away, Rick wiping at his eyes while his Mom rubs his back.

“Is that it?” She asks, “There anything else you wanna get off your chest?”

“No,” Rick shakes his head, sniffling softly, then thinking, “I miss Negan, but that’s normal. I’ll talk to him soon.”

His mom smiles, amused.

“Oh, Negan. I always wanted you two to be together, you know. Always figured there was something special there.”

Rick manages a small smile, but the words she speaks make him miss Negan even more.

“How long have you two been together now?” She asks.

“A little over a month,” Rick says.

To that he receives a look of surprise, an invitation to go on and explain.

“We weren’t talking to each other when I first got back. He was… he just wasn’t the same. Neither was I. We barely started talking to each other this last year of school, and that’s when we got close again- even closer, really.”

“I’ll say,” she smirks, shooting him a knowing look, “But tell me,” she says, truly absorbed, “I wanna know how your last year of high school was.”

So Rick tells her everything he can remember, everything that has been significant to him, every little milestone he’s felt.

And when they’re done talking, he feels warm on the inside, like speaking of Negan has made him feel as though the boy’s is there with him, right beside him.

He wonders if that’s why his Mom wanted him to talk about Negan in the first place.

Either way, when Rick is in his old bed, snuggled underneath the covers with his cellphone pressed to his cheek, listening to Negan talk, he feels his love for the boy has grown even more than when he left Texas.

Last time he was in California he was talking to the ocean and the sand and the seashells, asking them to somehow absorb all of his gayness and this unrequited love he held for Negan, and wash it away across the Pacific Ocean.

Now he’s falling asleep with his phone pressed to his face, Negan on the other side, hanging on.

-

It was hard at first but then it got easier. Then it got hard again, then easy.

Negan learns that nothing will ever be that easy if you don’t work for it to be. Time teaches him that.

-

The first week without Rick was the hardest. Especially with no school, and nothing to keep him distracted for a large amount of time.

Negan finds his loneliness mingling in his stomach for weeks. He and Rick text all the time, call each other at night, even Skype. It seems that they even talk more now than they did when they were face to face, but something in Negan still has to get used to this large distance between them, and all of this boredom that he sometimes mistakes for sadness.

That’s normal, Negan feels. Everyone needs some time to adjust. He just needed to give this time.

And so he let time fill in all the gaps and make his little tiny dents of emptiness smooth out.

Time has a name, and it’s Lucille, and she knows how to make you feel like the only thing you have to face is what is directly in front of you, right at your feet.

Just her presence alone makes Negan feel better. Knowing that there’s someone that isn’t his Mom or his Dad, someone that’s his age and is like him, by his side makes him feel better.

One summer day, on the Eve of June, Lucille comes over. She comes over all the time, but still. This day was a little different from the others.

It was a boring day, and because it was boring, Negan felt a little sad.

He had gone to the skatepark with Dwight, but it was too hot and he kept getting sweat in his eyes and he kept fucking up his kickflips and got a cut on his knee.

Then he and Dwight went to Creme Cup to try and salvage the day with some ice cream, but the soft serve machine was broken and that just made it feel like the world was working against him.

So he bid Dwight goodbye, and skated home.

When he got there, Lucille was just pulling into his driveway.

She hopped out of her car, looking fresh and glowy and the complete opposite of a dirty dusty bloody Negan.

“Dude…” she says, taking in his form, gaze settling on his gushing knee, “You’re leaking.”

That’s when Negan looks down and finally notices the stream of red spilling down his leg.

He grimaces, though it doesn’t hurt.

“Dwight said it wasn’t that deep,” Negan shrugs.

Lucille gives him a pitying look.

“Let’s bandage you up, Tony Hawk.”

Negan gives a singular nod, and then follows behind her.

They get to his restroom and he sits up on the counter while Lucille works about the first aid kid.

“This is gonna sting like a bitch,” She warns when she comes to yield a peroxide soaked cotton ball.

The jolt of the antibacterial brings Negan back to life a good chunk, and he’s laughing past the initial shock.

Lucille chuckles alongside him, accenting his sounds.

“My Aunt has this cafe that’s opening up just outside of town,” She says, stamping a Spongebob bandaid over Negan’s knee, “She’s looking for waitstaff, and I think we should do it.”

“Us? Waitstaff?”

“What? We’re pretty hot, we’d get good tips.”

Negan thinks about it.

“How the fuck am I gonna hold all those damn cups? And those fucking plates? Especially when they’re hot and shit. Fuck no, imagine dealing with all those fucking old people and hipsters when I make one fucking mistake and they ask to speak to my damn manager? Fucking shitty, dude..”

“So you’ll do it? With me?”

“....Yeah, sure,” Negan sighs, “Got nothing fuckin’ better to do this summer. Might as well make some damn money.”

“How are you and Rick?” She asks suddenly.

“Me and Rick?” Negan says, taken off guard, “We’re good. We’re fuckin’ aces. We text all the fucking time… the cyber sex is amazing.”

“Then what the hells wrong? Why have you been so goddamn mopey?”

“I haven’t been fuckin’ mopey-”

“ _Yes_ , you have!”

Negan sighs, rolling his eyes indignantly before he begins to sulk.

“You know technically shit with me and Ricky is alright. Not to sound gay, but like… after cumming three times during a raunchy phone sex sesh, I really wish that he was there to just fucking hold me and touch my fucking hair like the good ol days.”

Lucille gives him a funny smile, small and unsure and kind of grossed out at the image in her head.

“You’ll see him soon,” she says, trying to console him, “I’m sure you will. You guys can’t be apart for that long.”

Negan nods, agreeing solemnly, “We can’t.”

And in his mind, he hears Rick saying _I don’t know when I’ll be back._

-

When Negan talks to Rick, he feels good. It feels like Rick is there with him, right beside him.

But it also makes him sad if he thinks about it too much, because when he hangs up, or when he reaches out to the side seeking Rick’s solid form, no one is there.

“How was work today?” Rick asks.

They’re both lying on their beds, three states apart.

It's one in the morning for Negan, eleven at night for Rick.

Negan yawns, “It was alright I guess. Only got called a fag once.”

“Wow,” Rick says, “Texas sucks.”

At that, Negan gets defensive, “It’s not _that_ bad. Can’t be that far from Cali-fucking-fornia.”

Rick can hear Negan pout, but the sound waves coming to him feel tense and bitter, and Rick knows he’s struck a nerve.

“You’re the only good thing about Texas,” he says, low and sweet, “That and cowboys.”

Negan softens quickly, melting into a smile.

“Well, that’s all one in the same, partner,” Negan says, equipped with a sharp southern accent.

Rick chuckles, low and sweet.

The sound spreads out between them and then Negan hears Rick suck in a breath.

“Can I ask you something?” He says, voice still sugary and dream like.

“Sure, baby.”

Negan tenses with a bit of fear. Irrationally so, but still. It seems lately all he can assume is the worst.

On the other side of the phone, Rick smiles again, pressing his face giddily into the pillow before he swallows his pride and asks, “When did you know you first loved me?”

Again, Negan goes from tense to lax at the hands of Rick’s words.

Though the lax he’s feeling this time around wears a ring of melancholy, spun up from Negan’s desperate clutching onto the past.

His smile is sad as he recalls, thinking aloud.

“Probably when you first touched my dick,” he says, and he doesn’t realize how dumb he sounds because right now he’s full of reverence and nostalgia, intensely reminiscent, “In my truck, on that good ol’ fuckin’ country backroad.”

Negan feels sad. He feels intense longing, so thick and palpable and _here_ , like how he wishes Rick was.

“Really?” Rick says, and he sounds so full of flattered elation, gooey and lovely and so fond that his voice somehow blushes, “That early?”

“Yeah…” Negan says, voice fading quietly, “I don’t know if you remember but… there was this.. this fucking song that I loved that was playing, and you were moving so fast and I just wanted you to slow down, so I stopped. I stopped us, and I just fucking stared at you for a moment and l listened to the song and I fucking fell in love with you. So goddamn easily.”

Rick’s receiver meets the stretching ends of his smile, Negan’s meets the welling pits of his frown.

Rick feels so impossibly in love.

Negan feels so fucking lonely.

“Do you wanna know when I first realized I loved you?” Rick asks.

“When?”

“During those two days I didn’t go to school, after I found out I was leaving,” Rick smiles to himself, small and quiet and demure in the darkness of the night, “I had a lot of time to think about a lot of things, but somehow my brain always came back to you. Then I started thinking about the last time I was in California, and I thought it can either be the same as last time, where I stifle myself and bottle things up, or I can be honest. With myself _and_ with you.”

Negan is quiet and Rick chuckles thoughtfully.

“Funny How everytime I’m in California I’ve been in love with you.”

“You’ve only been in California twice, Rick.”

“Still everytime.”

Rick has told Negan many a times about his previous endeavors in California as a newborn teen. He knows Rick loved him then, but hadn’t had the courage to tell him before things with his parents blew up- especially since Negan hadn’t even known a portion of either of their sexualities.

They were so young and no one was gay in their little Texas town.

“I miss you, Rick,” Negan says after a moment, lying on his side, facing the vacant chunk of the bed where Rick would be if he was still here.

He feels like that empty space isn’t just in his bed, but everywhere in his life.

And maybe it's because Rick is gone, but maybe it isn’t. Negan just feels like he’s floating aimlessly, and though he’s felt that way for a while, now he feels alone.

“I miss you too, Negan,” Rick says, declaring it proudly.

-

Summer of 2018 has its highs and lows.

Some highs being endless, restless, annoying nights with Lucille after their late-night cafe shifts, downing shots of espresso and screaming like she would when she was in powerlifting and had to take a whiff of some ammonia to pump her up. Negan always loses it when she does that.

Sometimes after their shifts, they went back to his house or hers and watched too many rom coms, and then too many sad movies, and then too many shit for brain comedies to make them laugh again.

There was skating with Dwight, sun beating on their backs, encouraging one another to take that next step, cross that line of existing fear and push their minds and their bodies to a whole nother level. Scrapes and bruises and cuts and stitches. It was rough, gritty fun that got Negan through a whole lot of his frustrations.

There was skype calls with Rick where the boy looked so cute and sleepy, holding onto his consciousness just so he could see Negan after a long day that ended late. Negan just wanted to kiss his cheeks and suck his dick and be the pillow beneath his head.

But although that was one of the high points of Negan’s summer, it was also a low point.

Everything with Rick seemed to be bittersweet now that they were apart.

Yes, he looked so cute in video calls, and yes Negan loved texting him and hearing his voice through a grainy telephone or getting nudes on snapchat, but he also just wanted Rick with him, wanted to feel Rick solid against him, hold his warm hand, touch his soft curly hair.

And though romantically Negan was lonely the entire summer, at least he had a friend.

When the fall rolls around, and Lucille goes off to college two hours away, Negan realizes just how lucky he was to have her.

Lucille tells him the exact same things Rick told him: everything about _I'll call you, I’ll text you everyday, we’ll skype, too._

Negan believes her, of course he does, but he knows from Rick that all of it won't be as fulfilling as it sounds, and that his loneliness will only get worse.

He just didn’t think it would get _this_ bad.

Along with Lucille, Rick starts college as well.

He moves into the dorms of his new University, and watching both of them go through all the exciting new experiences of moving out and meeting new people makes Negan feel like a big fat loser.

To make matters worse, and flatten Negan’s self esteem even further, Negan can tell Rick has a tiny crush on his new roommate, Siddiq.

It first becomes obvious during one of their Skype calls.

One minute they’re talking about God knows what, and the next thing Negan knows, Rick’s looking off camera with a surprised smile.

“Hey!” Rick yells, still looking off camera, waving a hand towards himself in invitation, “Come here! Come say hi!”

Negan hears sheepish protests; protests that eventually wear thin as Rick lasers out a mean set of puppy eyes.

And then a tall figure is standing beside Rick, and Rick is grabbing them by the shoulders and pulling them down to his height.

Negan sees the grip Rick has on him, and it's like he can almost feel Rick’s fingers on his own body, but not quite.

“Negan, this is Siddiq,” Rick announces, laughing at the image of an awkward Siddiq so close to the webcam, “Siddiq, this is Negan.”

“Hi,” Negan says tersely.

“Hey, Negan,” Siddiq offers back with an amused smile, before looking over to Rick, “Can I go now?”

Rick chuckles, “Yeah, sure,” and lets him go, saying bye to him as he walks out the door.

Once Negan knows they’re alone again, he wastes no time.

“You like him, don’t you?”

“ _What?_ Are you being serious right now?”

“Yes, I’m being serious,” Negan scoffs, “I just wanna know, I mean.. I’m not blind, he’s cute and you two are practically fucking living together.”

“I didn’t _choose_ to live with him, Negan,” Rick says, and then, after a closer look at Negan’s tensely wrought face, “Oh God… you’re jealous.”

“Of fucking course I’m jealous! You’re- you’re touching him, and you’re-”

“What, so I’m not allowed to _touch_ people?”

Negan sighs exasperatedly, rubbing a hand over his weary face, “You know that’s not what I’m saying.”

“So what are you saying, then?”

“I’m saying I wish you could fucking touch me!”

Things go silent.

Rick’s mouth part with slight shock, his eyes go soft with sadness.

Negan chews heavily on his bottom lip, feeling the weight of what he’s just said.

“I wish,” he begins again, but cuts off with a sigh, “I wish I could touch you, too.”

Rick looks guiltily into the camera.

“Baby…”

Negan shakes his head.

“When am I going to see you again?” He raises instead, “Will I ever?”

“Of course you will, Negan, I just-”

“When?” Negan asks more intensely, “It's been three months, Rick.”

“I don’t know.”

“Thanksgiving? Christmas time? Valentines Day? Fucking Easter? Just give me a date, give me a fucking time so I can fucking know _something_ , Rick. When the hell are you coming home?”

Rick sighs, “Negan…” he begins, “California is my home now. All my family is _here_.”

Negan swallows hard, gives a bitter laugh that’s just a weak huff of air from his nose, “So what am I? Just a throwaway boyfriend you only turn on when you’re in Texas?”

“I have a life, Negan. I’m going to college, I have a job now. I love you, I love you _so_ much but… I can’t put my life on pause. I’ll be back. I just don’t know when, but I will.”

Negan thinks maybe if he had something to do, some sort of plan, or a vague guess at his life, he wouldn’t be so caught up over Rick.

He knows Rick is right, and that he may be asking Rick for too much right now.

“I know, I know,” Negan sighs deeply, rubbing his eyes, “Sorry, I just… I don’t know. Guess I’m just selfish. Want you next to me all the damn time,” he gives a lazy, half assed smirk, “Maybe I should get one of those lives, too, y’know? Figure some shit out, pull some strings,” Negan looks at Rick’s grainy picture on his screen, “Just don’t know how to do it.”

Rick regards him softly, “You’ll figure it out, baby. Just give it some time. Kim Gordon was in her forties when Sonic Youth finally made it big, remember?”

“Yeah, yeah… I won’t look as hot as Kim Gordon when I’m fuckin’ forty though.”

-

Worse and worse and worse.

Things are okay, considering the circumstances.

Negans parents aren’t forcing him to do or be anything, and they’re so supportive.

He still keeps in very good touch with Rick, and Lucille even manages to visit on the regular.

He’s making steady money as a waitress- nothing big, but something to put in his savings.

But inside, Negan’s mind is a course of flare ups he can’t control.

All day everyday all he does is worry worry worry, and he feels like he can’t tell anybody. He wants everybody to think he’s fine. He doesn’t want anybody to think he regrets his decisions of not going to college after high school.

He wants people to think he knows what he’s doing.

But all he’s been doing is laying around in the guest bedroom and watching anime and writing in his journals again.

Nothing poetic, just a log of his days and his feelings. It's something to help him cope, something that makes him feel productive.

He hears about Lucille’s new friends, still hears about Siddiq.

He hears about what new things Rick and Lucille are learning, how they’re supposedly bettering themselves.

It all makes Negan feel so alone. He just wants a friend, and a hug and a kiss and a hand to hold.

But he’d have to ask for those things, and normally that would be no big deal, but Negan's just been so out of his element lately and so unlike himself.

He used to be so outspoken, so unabashed.

Now he’s not sure what to be, and that again is so redundant.

Negan is just getting out from his night shift when he gets a call from Dwight.

Usually when Dwight calls him, it has something to do with skating or weed, and right now Negan’s much too weary for a skate sesh, and he knows the lethargic mood weed puts him in would just make him feel guilty later on.

He hops in his idle car, sitting in the driver’s seat as he speaks to Dwight.

“Hey man,” Dwight begins, sounding unlawfully energetic for the time of day, “You busy right now?”

“Look Dwight, I’m not really in the mood to skate right now. Just got out of my shitty as shit job, and I kinda just wanna go home and sleep.”

Dwight hears how tired Negan sounds, and empathizes with him deeply.

“Shit man, I know the feeling. Ever since Creme Cup started staying open twenty four hours my shit has just been fucked,” Dwight says, but then shakes his head, remembering, “But that’s not what I was calling about. I actually… I have a proposal for you.”

Negan crooks a brow, “A proposal? What the hell

Does that mean? …. I don’t want weed, Dwight.”

“You know I don’t sell weed anymore!” Dwight says, “Look, just come to my house, _please._ You hungry? I’ll make you some food. I know you’re fucking bone dead tired but I can kind of promise you won’t regret this.”

Negan sighs, but gives in.

“Fine,” he says, because he’s a little curious and he wants some free food and human interaction.

He and Dwight hang up, and Negan heads towards his house.

As he parks his car in Dwight’s driveway, he feels his phone vibrate in his pocket.

Sure enough, when he pulls it out, it’s Rick.

Lately, however, seeing that name in his caller ID, be it from a text or a call, incites more stress than joy.

Either way Negan's heart still tugs with complete longing.

“Hey, baby,” Negan greets, voice gritty with disuse.

“Hi,” Rick says, sweetly drawing out the word in a way that makes Negan crack a smile, “You just get out of work?”

“Yeah.”

“How was that?”

“Same old, same old,” Negan sighs, because he answers this questions a lot, “Not exactly exhilarating.”

Rick’s been noticing Negan’s lack of enthusiasm in their conversations. Not just after work, but all

the time now, it seems.

“Oh, well uhm.. work today was pretty cool for me. Siddiq actually convinced the jockey to let me put a couple songs on the air during the late hours, so we’ll see how that goes-”

“Look, Rick, I gotta go. I’m at Dwight’s right now. He wants to talk to me about something, fuck all if I know.”

There’s a gap of tense silence.

“Yeah, alright,” Rick says sourly, “Sorry, I forgot you don’t care.”

Negan sighs deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes shut, “Rick, I- Ricky, I _do_ care. I swear, I fucking care.”

“Now say that like you’re not fucking obligated to.”

“I care, Rick,” Negan lays his head on the steering wheel, “I love you, and I’m so fucking happy for you, I know I am, but it’s so fucking hard to hear how great your life is right now when I’m so fucking lonely and I don’t know what the _fuck_ I’m doing.”

“Just because I’m going to college and like my job and have friends doesn’t mean I know what I’m doing, Negan. No one knows what they’re doing.”

Negan feels his frustration simmer up inside of him, brimming his eyes with tears as he clutches onto his phone.

“But you’ve got a clue, right? You’ve got people so proud of you for going to college and you have a _clue_ and you have people around you that are going through the same shit as you,” Negan sucks in a sharp breath, gathers himself as he feels the sting of a newborn cry, “It’s so hard. It’s so fucking hard. I have no idea what I’m doing, I don’t know when I'm gonna see you again, or how long I’ll last being a waiter. I don’t know what I’m fucking _living for_ . I’m just- I’m just _here_ , and I don’t know why.”

Negan’s fully aware that he’s whining, but fuck it if it doesn’t feel good, and at least he’s telling Rick how he feels.

That’s a good thing, right? Crying and whining to your boyfriend?

Maybe it's not, because after a moment Rick still hasn’t said anything and all Negan hears is the crickets of the night that stand outside his car door.

“Uh, I guess I better go,” Negan sniffles, wiping his nose off on the back of his hand, “Dwight’s still waiting for me.”

“Wait, Negan,” Rick says quickly, before Negan can move the phone from his ear, “I… I love you.”

Negan frowns, nearly crying again.

“I love you, too, Blue,” He says back, and that concludes their phone call.

Negan heads into Dwight’s place finally after drying off his face, and is instantly hit with the familiar earthy scents of his and Sherry’s home as he’s met with a warm hug from his fellow skinny blond friend.

“Nice to see you, man,” Dwight greets, “It’s been too long, dude.”

“I saw you at Creme Cup two days ago.”

Dwight shrugs easily, “Still nice to see ya, man.”

Negan huffs a laugh, agreeing, “Yeah it is,” because he can think of a couple of people it would be nice to see as easily as he can see Dwight.

“Sit down,” Dwight says, ushering Negan towards the snug kitchen, “I made breakfast for dinner. Kinda late for dinner, but fuck it. What is time, anyways?”

Dwight pulls out Negan’s chair for him and Negan wonders why, but sits anyways.

He polishes off a fair stack of blueberry pancakes, and Dwight sits beside him instead of in front of him as they eat, which is odd, but nice.

After Negan downs a glass of milk, he notices Dwight staring at him.

“Why the fuck are you staring at me like that?” Negan asks, wiping off his milk moustache.

“I’m thinking.”

“About?”

“About how I should ask you this..”

Negan crooks a brow.

“You’re not gay for me are you? Is this a date? Cuz I have a fucking boyfriend, you know… Rick. Plus you’re like a hundred years older than me-”

“No, I’m not gay for you! And I’m twenty-one, not fuckin’ eighty…. Jesus..”

Negan hmphs, “Glad we got that out of the way. So what the hell did you wanna ask me?”

Dwight sighs, “Okay, bear with me, because this might sound like some wild offer, but I promise you it’s not.”

“Just tell me, Dwight.”

“You know my bands been doing pretty well, right? Sherry and I finally found a steady bassist after Lucille stole my bass, and we had some auditions a while back and found a drummer who practically _eats_ drums for breakfast.”

“Eats drums for breakfast? That’s a dumbass thing to say.”

“Anyways, we’ve been doing pretty good. We’ve been playing shows more often. Nothing serious, just around Texas- but we found a manager and he’s been booking us some shows. Enough for an actual fucking tour, man. Isn’t that crazy?”

The way Dwight sounds so astounded, so genuinely awestruck and humbled makes Negan feel a bit of light as well.

He knows Dwight’s been working at this music thing for a while- long before Negan even knew him- and it fills him with hope that he’ll eventually find his own way, too, no matter how long it takes.

“Yeah, man,” Negan says, a somber smile on his lips, “That’s… fucking awesome.”

“Thanks man,” Dwight says, “I know you’ve been having a hard time since you graduated, and trust me, I’ve been there, too. But you’ve really helped me this last year just by being there to like, skate with me and shit. It's just nice to have a friend, y’kno?”

“Yeah, dude. Totally.”

“So I wanted to ask you: Do you wanna be our roadie?”

Negan blinks, taken aback.

“Wh- me? A roadie? What the hell even is a roadie?”

“You lift all the heavy shit and plug in all the cables and you just come along for the ride,” Dwight tells him, “So? You in?”

Negan, tired and confused, is having trouble coming to terms with what’s being offered.

Is this the thing he’s been waiting for? The monumental event that’ll shape his future and clear him some sort of path, makeshift or not?

Negan doesn’t really wanna carry heavy shit, and he’s not very technical, so he’s bad with wiring and all that.

But in that moment he recalls something his Dad once told him that is very Dad-like

He would say it whenever Negan declined  his offers of trying his hand in the auto mechanics world.

_Stop saying you can’t and start saying you’ll try._

So Negan shrugs, “Yeah Sure,” he says, a hint of excitement in his voice, “I’ll go. Just have to talk to my parents first.”

 _And Rick_ , goes unsaid.

-

It’s two in the morning when Negan finally gets back from Dwight’s.

The first thing he has on his mind is Rick, and how much he wants to tell him what’s going on.

But with that comes his fear of what Rick could say.

Quietly, and somewhat stealthily, Negan sneaks carefully into his house, careful not to wake his parents. He needs to be on their good side if he wants to get their approval for this tour.

Not that he wouldn’t go if they didn’t approve. It’s his life after all, he needs to start making his own decisions, living on his own.

When he gets to his room, the first thing he does is flop onto his bed, falling on his back and staring up at the dimly lit ceiling and wondering if he should even bother Rick.

Then he thinks, _yeah I should_ , and he pulls out his phone and begins to FaceTime Rick.

The first thing Rick says, looking utterly blinded by the backlight of his phone, is “Negan, it’s two in the morning.”

“Yeah,” Negan says, watching Rick rub at his sleepy eyes, “I’m heavily aware of that.”

“Did you just get back from Dwight’s? Why are you calling me..? Go to sleep, baby.”

“I gotta tell you something.”

“Oh god… at two in the morning?” Rick says, fear grasping his tone, “I’m scared now. What is it?”

Negan’s lying down but he can feel his leg shaking as if he were sitting. He’s so nervous, he’s not sure what Rick will say.

“Uh, guess,” he says, trying to make light of things.

But Rick isn’t buying it, and wearily he sighs, “Just tell me, Negan.”

“Dwight asked me to go on tour with his band as a roadie and I don’t know how long we’ll be gone or where we’re going so if you needed a firm kick in the ass to get you to come see me, well here it is.”

Silence, and Rick’s crinkly confused faced- that’s all Negan gets.

And then, a sleepy, “What?”

Negan gulps, and maybe he just chose a bad time to tell Rick, but every poisonous, negative feeling he’s been weathering these past few months comes back up the stream like it’s been regurgitated.

“Rick, I can’t fucking do this anymore,” Negan sighs out, but then he curses, “Wait! Fuck-no, I mean… I don’t- I don’t know how much longer I can do this if I can’t just go _see_ you.”

Rick sighs, all kinds of tired, and Negan grits his teeth as he says, “Negan, we’ve gone through this so many-”

“ _So what the hell are you waiting for?!”_ Negan bursts, “You don’t want me to go over there, you don’t want to come over here, what the hell is it? What’s fucking wrong? I feel like you’re fucking hiding something from me and it's freaking me the fuck out!”

“You need to go to sleep, Negan, you and me both,” Rick says, hand splayed stressful on his forehead as he speaks quietly, trying to bring things back to calm.

“I hate when you do that, I _hate_ when you fucking do that! You just brush it off all the fucking time, you know this is fucking bothering me and you just brush that shit off!”

To that, Rick says nothing, just purses his lips.

Negan feels himself blacken more, bitterness accumulating.

“And I don’t need to sleep, thank you very fuckin’ much. I got a whole bunch of shit to do, but sleep is last on my list of priorities,” Negan says, “You know what I oughta do though? I oughta fucking break up with your ass, because you obviously don’t give a shit about us!”

That gets Rick to speak up.

“ _I_ don’t give a shit about us?” Rick scoffs, hurt, “It was our five month anniversary three days ago and you didn’t even bother to mention it!”   
“I did fucking remember! I stopped bringing it up after you got pissed at me for suggesting I go visit you on our three month anniversary, so fuck you.”

Rick rolls his eyes, shaking his head, “You know what? Maybe you really should just break up with me.”

That moves Negan to silence, switching from heated to stunned, jaw dropping slightly.

He wishes he could see Rick’s face, but all he can see on his screen is the wall behind Rick’s head.

As he’s quiet, he thinks wow, he’s really just been talking to a wall this whole time and maybe that’s saying something.

“Is that what you want?” Negan asks, voice meek and terse.

After a long moment Rick says, “No,” and it’s music to Negan’s ears, “But I feel like it's what you want.”

“I don’t wanna break up with you, Ricky,” Negan admits, frowning as his cocktail of emotions leaves an aftertaste of melancholy, “I love you so much, I just- I just wanna fucking be within arms reach of you for just one day. Is that really too much to ask?”

“No,” Rick answers, “But I don’t know when I can give that to you. I don’t- I don’t know how to make time. I’m still learning how to do that, but please- _please,_ just trust me. You _will_ see me again.”

It's hard for Negan to believe that. But then he thinks about Freshmen year, seeing Rick in those halls after two years of being apart with absolutely no contact.

They’re inseparable. They withstand time.

Negan needs to remember that.

-

Two days later, after ginger proceedings with his and Rick’s relationship, Dwight sends Negan the official list of tour dates.

California is the last date- the only out of state date, December 14th.

When Negan reads this, he is washed over with excitement for just a moment.

Then he worries, poisonously so, that maybe Rick still would not be available.

He almost doesn’t tell Rick, but that lasted all of five minutes before he gave the boy a call.

“Hey, baby? Our FaceTime lunch date isn’t for another twenty minutes- don’t tell me you started without me again. Negan, I told you, you don’t have to apologize for that every single time, it's alright-”

“No, I haven’t started yet, I swear, I haven’t even made my waffles yet but I got some shit to tell you.”

“Oh?”

There’s a lilt of anxiety in Rick’s voice, because everytime Negan has said that these past few months, they always end up fighting.

Negan himself is anxious to drop the bomb.

“I got the tour dates from Dwight like, right fucking now, and uhm… the last date is- it’s close.”

“Close…?”

“To you.”

Rick raises his brow.

“When is it?” Rick asks after a moment, and Negan feels relief and maybe even a little bit of hope, because Rick hasn’t flat out denied it yet.

“December 14th.”

“Really?” Rick says, pleasantly surprised, “That’s after this semester.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know uhm-” Negan clears his throat, “So is- is that a fuck yes or a hell no?”

Negan never even fully asked his question (Can I see you?) but Rick already knows what he means. How couldn’t he? It's all that’s been on their minds since Rick left.

“That’s a super fuck yes,” Rick says, words colored by a grin.

Negan lets out a long, giddy whoop of victory, ringing loudly in Rick’s ear.

-

Two months on the road is both exhausting and exhilarating.

Negan sees parts of Texas whiter than the pale part of its constituents farmers tans. Hears accents thicker than sap. Sees brush so yellow and grass so green. Meets the nicest people he’s ever known, has some of the best conversations with Dwight and Sherry and their band during those late night back of the van drives from one city to the next.

It's fun, it feels like Negan is really living, and all he has to do is lift heavy shit and plug that in there and in that. It's a more than fair exchange for what he gets to experience.

And he gets to see Rick at the end of it all? Definitely more than fair.

California is Negan’s first time ever being out of state.

They have a show at some small and raggedy less than 200 people capacity venue, and it's weird being so far from home and having people know about his friends music and like it enough to see them live.

But Negan doesn’t think about it too much, because all he can think about is Rick, and how he’s closer to the boy than he’s been since the day after graduation.

As soon as the show is over, and all the gear has been packed away and the green room is cleaned out, Negan’s on his way to Rick, updating him every second.

_Thirty minutes away_

_Ten :))))_

_Dammit nvm stuck in traffic_

_Still stuck in traffic_

_Finally moving!!!!!_

_nvm… fuck California_

_What’s ur moms address again?_

_Ok almost there!!!!!!! God can’t wait to see u_

_I’m here !!!!!?!!_

Rick opens the door before Negan can even knock, and immediately he’s met with a giant bear hug that feels so immeasurably good.

He doesn’t even see Rick’s face, he was moving so fast, but he feels the boy’s body against his, smells his hair and wraps his arms tightly around that waist, and Negan knows without a doubt that it’s Rick.

“I missed you,” Rick declares when they finally move apart, voice ridden with emotion as he takes in Negan’s face, studying the boy from head to toe as Negan does the same, “Your hair!” He notices, a permanent grin on his face as he runs his fingers through the two toned locks, feeling the contrast of the soft black regrowth and the processed blond, “It grew so much.”

“Yeah,” Negan says, bordering on speechless as he tries not to completely melt away in the palm of Rick’s hand, and he can’t tear his gaze away from his favorite set of eyes, “Been thinking about just dying it all black again. Your dream come true,” Negan jokes.

Rick is still stroking Negan’s hair, still smiling, “I think I might miss it,” he admits, “The blond’s grown on me.”

Negan smiles- or grins, really. He’s been smiling for a while already, like it’s his lips natural form.

“I missed you so fucking much,” Negan says, nearly groaning as he pulls Rick close in again, letting their lips finally meet, “I love you so goddamn much,” he says in between kisses.

“I love you, too,” Rick murmurs, pressing his body as close to Negan’s as he physically can.

From that moment on they get carried away, and their hands venture in ways that aren’t appropriate for a front porch reunion.

Before any true softcore porn groping can occur, a tap on the window behind them sounds.

Through the glass is Siddiq, and when the two of them catch eyes with him, the boy points his thumb behind him as if to say _everyone can see you_ , before he casts an awkward wave and then leaves.

“Siddiq?” Negan questions, moving his hands higher off Rick’s hips.

“His parents live out of state,” Rick explains carefully, “He couldn’t find any way to get home that was cheap, and he’s the only friend I’ve made this entire semester.”

“I get it,” Negan says, and it's not passive aggressive or jealous, but truly understanding, “I’m not mad,” he says, smiling down at Rick, planting a kiss on his nose before he says, “How can I be mad when I get to see this cute fuckin’ face? You are such a goddamn sweetheart.”

“That’s me, Rick Sweetheart Grimes.”

Negan chuckles, gleaming down on his boy.

“C’mon,” Rick says, grabbing Negan’s hand and tugging him towards the door, “I want you to meet everyone.”

-

Family dinner is fun.

Rick’s grandparents are old and funny- the kind of age that developed gracefully and with open minds that only living in San Francisco during the time of Harvey Milk could harvest.

Rick’s Mom is endlessly sweet and kind, but bitingly sassy, just like her son, and her wife Janet is bubbly and warm like the erratic freckles on her face.

And now that Negan is not blinded by peak jealousy, he sees now what Rick loves about Siddiq so much. He’s shy and timid at first, all too polite and unbothered, but the more you unravel him he actually gets a little unruly and maybe even a smidge charming.

All in all, Negan has a fun night, and for the first time in nearly two months, he feels at home.

Maybe it has something to do with the fact that he gets to fall asleep with his limbs entwined with Rick’s, tangled in a comfy knot. Sure they’re sleeping on a blow up mattress on the floor while Siddiq takes Rick’s bed, but it's no bother to them at all.

Negan has his knee between Rick’s thighs, perched just beneath his junk, and he’s an inch away from sleep when he feels Rick grind down against him.

Then his eyes shoot wide open with shock, and arousal cuts through his gut as he hand flies instinctively to Rick’s hip, clutching at the flesh.

Rick meets his gaze with lascivious eyes, sexy like navy blue satin, and Negan feels like a helpless man when a pair of plush pillowy lips lavish his neck with attention.

“Rick, we can’t do this here,” Negan manages, but as he whispers it, he’s got his hand on Rick’s entire ass, urging the boy to grind harder against him

“And why not?” Rick says as he slips a hand down the front of Negan’s jeans, fingertips softly meeting coarse hair.

Negan hiccups loudly in surprise, canting his hips, physically begging Rick’s hand to go lower despite his words.

“Because Siddiq’s in here,” he points out.

Before Rick can open his mouth to protest that, a sleep ridden voice chimes in.

“Yeah, Siddiq’s in here,” Siddiq says, noncommittal.

Despite how they’ve both turned their heads to look at the boy on the bed, Rick’s hand is still moving, rubbing Negan’s hardening cock.

“Uhh… I’m gonna go to the bathroom,” Negan says all too quickly, rolling off the air mattress and hoping Rick gets the memo.

He does.

“Me, uh… me too!”

-

Negan goes back home for Christmas so he can spend it with his family and Lucille.

After their reunion, Rick and Negan vow to see each other every winter and every summer.

At first, while they were riding off the high of seeing each other, it was supposed to be every two months.

But they knew they had to be realistic about it, and seeing each other every two months would be too expensive.

So Negan went to California every winter and came back home just before Christmas.

And Rick came to Texas every summer when the Spring semester ended, and stayed until he had to start getting things ready for his next year of college.

They kept that routine for years.

Even after Negan moved out of his parents house to live in Austin near Dwight and Sherry, where he eventually ended up being the band’s new manager, which was a lot of work, but he was the only one the two trusted.

God knows why…

Even after Negan proposed to Rick at his graduation ceremony with no ring because he couldn’t afford one.

Even after Ricks’s grandparents died and left their house to their only grandson.

Even after Dwight and Sherry’s band got their first real break, and Negan saw actual money coming their way.

The first thing he bought was a set of matching wedding bands, cool and silver to rest heavy on his and Rick’s fingers.

The summer where they’re both twenty six, Negan went to visit Rick instead of the other way around.

Why? Because Negan had just gotten the ring two weeks ago and almost had an aneurysm thinking about how long he’d have to wait to propose again.

When he gets on his knee for the second time, Rick falters.

“What? What is it?” Negan says, filling with nerves, “is it the ring? You don’t like it, do you?”

“No, it's a beautiful ring! He loves it!”

Negan gives a side eyed glare to the overly excited brown eyed boy standing in the corner.

Siddiq lives with Rick now. They’re both still in med school, studying to be doctors of their own accord.

“He’s right, I do love it, but…” Rick swallows, “How long are we gonna be apart? When will we even get married?”

That’s an instant downer.

“....I’ll give you two some privacy…”

Negan fish mouths, looking up at Rick.

“I don’t know, baby,” Negan says, and oh what goes around comes around, “You’re still in school, I don’t wanna interfere with that. We can get married right now if you want. We don’t need anything big, right? Just you and me. We can always have another wedding. A huge one, whenever you fucking want. Whenever your heart so fucking desires.”

Rick thinks.

“You know,” he muses, “Siddiq is ordained.”

“Don’t fuck with me, Ricky,” Negan says, because if Rick is saying what he thinks he’s saying…

“I’m not,” Rick says, a grin growing slowly on his face, “Let’s get married.”

“Now?”

“Right now.”

“Here? In your kitchen?”

Rick look around, then out the window at the billowing waves he used to speak to as a teenager.

“On the beach,” he says.

Negan can’t hold back his grin, still on his knee.

“ _Siddiq!”_ He bellows, “ _Come marry me and my boy_!”

“Wait!” Rick laughs, pulling out his phone, “Let me call my Mom!”

“Shit, my parents are gonna be so pissed when they find out they missed this… Lucille’s gonna fuckin’ kick my ass, too.”

And so they get married in the middle of May, the sun setting down on them as Siddiq stands between them, as the waves feed them their applause and as Cindy and Janet cry.

The rest of the night goes on in warmth.

They don’t have their actual wedding until Rick finishes school, but that’s more for their families and friends than for them.

There on the beach- barefoot in the sand and full from the dinner they just ate less than thirty minutes ago, crying happy tears and reciting impromptu vows, that’s for the two of them.

And that Summer in Rick’s hand me down house, cooking dinners and dancing in the living room and bothering Siddiq and sitting on the front porch watching summer rain storms, that was their first honeymoon.

Everyday from that day forward, their love reaches new peaks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is the LONGEST most DRAMATIC shit ive ever written lmao but wow im so proud of myself and im so endlessly thankful to all of you that have read and related and trusted me i bet so mnay of u thought i was gonna fuck shit up in this epilogue but it was honestly not even considered, i wanted this to be a happy ending from the beginning just because unrequited love is the saddest shit ever.  
> anyways, i LOVE u guys im sorry i caused u all pain lmao but this ones for the gays, i love u gays.  
> thank u all for reading, and im gonna go all dora mode and ask u WHAT UR FAV PART OF THIS FIC WAS OR IF U HAVE A FAV SONG OFF THE PLAYLIST ID LOVE TO KNOW ill go first n say my fav chap was FUSCHIA n my fav song off the playlist is prolly when im with you or thirteen  
> see yall at my next work, i hope to have it out soon :)


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